


The Right Thing

by SilverRaven33



Category: Boy Meets World
Genre: Family Abadonment, Fix-it fic, Gen, Surrogate Parenting Struggles, Teacher-Student Relationship, surrogate father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23661124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverRaven33/pseuds/SilverRaven33
Summary: When Jonathan Turner offers Shawn a place to stay, neither one thinks it will last as long as it does. Can Jon be a good influence on the kid in the time that he has? And what will happen when Chet Hunter comes back, if he does?Starts at S3e20 (I Never Sang For My Legal Guardian) and goes through and beyond S4e21  (Cult Fiction, Mr. Turner's last appearance on the show). The story that I know I've always personally wanted about Mr. Turner after the accident and Shawn maybe having a shot at a better life.
Comments: 93
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m not in class,” Shawn threw out, “I don’t have to listen to you.” He swept one hand through his hair in his signature move, while hoisting his duffel bag up to his shoulder with the other. He pivoted away from Mr. Turner, who thought he’d been so clever to intercept him jumping out of the Matthews’ tree from Cory’s window. 

“Where are you gonna run now?” Mr. Turner’s voice was half mocking, half stern. He couldn't help it, he was sick of seeing this kid sabotage his life.

“What do you care?” Shawn shot back over his shoulder, turning back just enough to look at his English teacher, who was swaggering forward to meet him. 

“I was beginning to think I didn’t care about anything.” He drew level with the dark haired boy that was not quite a head shorter than himself. Shawn was listening, though, as usual. 

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” he shot as he rolled his eyes, turned, and started walking away again. “I gotta go.”

“Yeah I know, I been there,” Turner called out after him. He figured the boy still had a little ways before he made it out of the backyard, so he wasn’t bothering to chase him. Yet. But Shawn had stopped again at these words. Jonathan couldn’t see how hard he was rolling his eyes. 

“Someone reaches out to you and says they care about you,” he continued, “It’s easy to run.” 

Unfortunately he had experienced this himself, too many times, the most recent being just last night with a wonderful woman he’d been seeing. She’d said she loved him, and though Jonathon had wanted to in many ways, he couldn't quite say it back. He was familiar with the practice of withdrawing when emotions got too heavy, and though he was no expert on kids, despite having been a teacher for five years now, he did believe he could see when another person was hurting. Apparently Shawn thought he could see it as well. 

Partially turning back towards him again, Shawn said with slightly more than his usual arrogance, “Look, I’m sure you got a lot of big, emotional problems to work through here but I just need to find a place to sleep, okay?” 

“I’ll do you one better,” Jonathan shot back, caught up in the verbal battle. He’d thought of this before, but wasn’t sure how committed he was to it until he spoke the words. “How ‘bout I give ya a home?” This was, not surprisingly, met with a moment of silence while Shawn stared at him.

“What, your place?” he asked, his carefully constructed guard slipping ever so slightly. 

“Yeah, my place,” Mr. Turner answered with a little nod before he could stop himself. He didn’t know what he felt he had to prove, but Shawn’s attitude made him feel like he needed to prove it. 

“For how long?” this was met with distrust etched on Shawn’s face. “Three weeks and then you get sick of me?” And here he finally let the cracks show. Jonathan knew the boy had been having a tough time of it at the Matthews’ the past few weeks. Since his father had all but abandoned him there, he was supposed to try to fit in with the happy suburbanite family like everything was fine. But he had no other clothes than the ones he had on his back when his mother had driven his home away, he’d probably never lived in a house with a foundation under it, or had to follow many of the rules that such a place came with. 

From his own past, Jonathan understood where the kid was coming from more than he’d let on to anyone. His heart had been breaking for Shawn the past three weeks. He knew he had to keep things light though, because, just like a stray dog, one wrong move and any tenuous trust built between them would snap and the boy would be gone.

“Oh I’m sick of you now, Hunter, but I’m still making the offer.” He slung a hand on his hip and smirked, confident that Shawn would accept the challenge. Or at least he hoped so. His quarry was still distrustful, though.

“Why?” Shawn asked, with a frown. Mr. Turner couldn't blame him. 

“Cause I’m thinking I should do something for somebody else,” he answered, his voice gentling. He’d let down Kate, couldn't take care of her like a man should be able to do. Maybe if he did right by Shawn he could redeem himself a little, not so much with her, but with himself. 

“I think I need that.” He also knew he had to be careful to not let the kid see that he was trying to do him a favor. 

“You’re not gonna tell me what to do,” Shawn warned. 

“Somebody’s gotta,” Jonathan returned, knowing he couldn't lose ground now. 

“You’re not my dad,” the boy pulled out of his back pocket. 

“I’m not trying to be,” Jonathan reassured him. He had a feeling this would not be the last time he would hear that phrase. “Look,” he continued, “I’m just offering you a roof...and a window to crawl out of,” and as he studied Shawn’s face, he saw the need, the desire there, for something stable, something resembling a real home. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he reminded the boy, “Although it is five stories up.”

His bravado not completely gone, Shawn answered, “I like a challenge.” 

“So do I,” Mr. Turner said, sincere again. He lifted his arm to hold his hand out, asking for a truce. He wasn’t sure the kid would take it, but he thought he would, and after a moment’s hesitation, Shawn slung his duffel bag off his shoulder and onto the ground to meet his hand with his own. His grip was strong, which shouldn’t have been a surprise but Jon had to strengthen his own grip in response. He hoped this would be the beginning of...a beautiful friendship? Is that what that old movie quote was? John would settle for keeping Shawn safe and helping him to feel like maybe he had something stable in his life.

That had been a month ago that Shawn had come to stay with him, and here they were, yelling at each other again. When the new boots had shown up on Shawn’s feet, Mr. Turner had had the feeling that they had not been obtained in the conventional way, that is, by paying for them, and it turned out he was right.

“So?” Shawn was saying. “It’s a huge department store. They’ll never miss them. Jeez, it’s not like I took them from some homeless nun.” Shawn threw himself down on the couch in what Jonathan recognized as his huffy posture, arms folded, lips pursed, one brow wrinkled, not even bothering to fix his hair. 

“Stealing is stealing,” Jon asserted, his hands on his hips. “Not only is it wrong, it’s illegal.”

“I needed something to wear on my feet,” the boy answered stubbornly. His voice belied the fact that he knew this was a weak excuse.

“I bought you new sneakers last week!” Jonathan said. “I even made sure they were just like the old pair you had that fell apart.” He thought he’d done the right thing, or at least the best thing he could do.

“I wanted boots,” Shawn mumbled, his arms still folded and face screwed up but at least his brow had smoothed. Mr. Turner heaved a sigh. He’d known this was going to be hard. “I hate when people give me stuff. My dad said we weren’t charity cases.” These last two sentences were in a smaller voice, aimed towards a couch cushion. Johnathan’s shoulders slumped as all the anger escaped him at once. He walked over and flopped down on the couch next to the teen. 

“Shawn, you’re not a charity case,” he told him softly but steadily. 

“Then what is this?” the boy asked. “What is any of this? It’s bad enough you bought me all those clothes when I first got here.” Johnathan had known Shawn hadn’t believed him when he’d told him that his father had sent him money for the clothes. The kid was sharp, and that was part of why Jon couldn't let him down, even if it drove him nuts being the disciplinarian. 

“How many times do I need to tell you I care about you?” he asked Shawn now. “That I care what happens to you. That I don’t want you to end up in jail or worse.”

“But why?” The boy’s stubborn front had completely faded, and his arms only hung loosely, barely folded. As he looked at his teacher with a sincerely confused look in his eye and his voice plaintive, Jonathon almost wanted to cry. Was it really that hard for him to believe somebody just cared? Yeah, it was that hard sometimes, he knew. Jon sighed and threw an arm loosely around Shawn’s shoulder, giving him a brief side hug. He half expected the boy to shrug out of it but he didn’t.

“Because you’re a good person, Hunter,” Johnathan gave his words weight, hoping they would penetrate that bright but thick skull. “You are so much better than petit larceny,” he couldn't help but add, frustration coloring his tone. Shawn stared back at him. When they were sitting side by side, their eyes were almost at the same level. 

“You mad at me?” he asked him. Jonathan considered for a moment before answering.

“Yeah,” he said, but with no heat. “But I’m more disappointed. Shawn, look, if there’s something you want, please just tell me.” He had a sudden idea. “Maybe you can do chores or something for me and earn the money to buy whatever it is instead of stealing.” There, that’s what a parent would do, right? Jon felt so out of his element. 

A smirk grew on Shawn’s face as he replied, “I don’t know. I’ve never been a chore kinda guy.” Jonathan fought the urge to smirk back. 

“Well, you’re not shoplifting again,” he told him firmly. “I should make you take those boots back to the store and apologize. Like a little kid.” 

“Wait, you’re not?” Shawn asked, with one eyebrow raised. “Why not?” Jon did hesitate, but then he forged ahead. It was hard at times like these to not think of Shawn as more of a friend than a charge. 

“Cause I used to hate it when my mom would do that to me.” Shawn’s eyebrow rose higher, and the smirk was back. He let out a huff of disbelief. 

“Jon! Shame on you!” 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Shame on me. But it makes me realize I don’t want you learning the same way I did.” At Shawn’s quizzical look, he added, “By getting arrested. A few times. Which could have happened to you, don’t forget that.” His voice was stern again. 

“I know,” Shawn said, the fight gone out of him. At the end of the day, he was just a tired teenage boy. In an uncharacteristic display of affection and need, he flopped his head over onto Jonathan’s shoulder. The older man hesitatingly brought his arm that had been resting on the back of the couch behind Shawn and threw it around the kid in another side hug. 

“Never again. Deal?” Mr. Turner ascertained. 

“Deal,” Shawn echoed, not lifting his head from his teacher and caretaker’s shoulder. Though Jon wasn’t sure whether to believe him, he felt they had passed another small milestone of trust and getting to know each other. 


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re not going to the Matthews’ till you finish your homework,” Mr. Turner stated. 

“I suck at math!” Shawn ran both of his hands through his hair as if he wanted to pull it all out. “I’ve been trying to do this, I swear, and I just don’t get it.” The small kitchen table was covered in books and papers, some crumpled in balls. At least Jonathon didn’t see any doodles or paper airplanes. And the kid was clearly frustrated. Jonathan took a closer look at the figures on the sheets and winced. Algebra. 

“Any chance you can help me?” Shawn asked. 

“There’s a reason I’m an English teacher,” he confessed. He looked at the boy’s defeated eyes and relented. “Go on, get out of here. Just take your books with you so I can at least pretend you might try to do some of this at the Matthews.” Shawn eagerly started shoving his things in his backpack and then ran for the door. “And be careful on your bike on route twenty-three!” he called after him.

“I will be!” Shawn called back, halfway out of the door. 

“So how’s it going, being a part time dad?” Eli asked Jonathan when he came over for a couple of beers later that night. Shawn was still at Cory’s, and most likely would be until late. Mr. Turner was endlessly thankful that Shawn had a friend like Cory to help influence him. And to give him a chance to have his apartment to himself sometimes. 

“It’s...okay,” John told his friend. “My food bill has definitely gone up.” Eli chuckled. 

“He seems like he’s paying more attention in my class since he’s been staying with you,” the fellow teacher told him. Mr. Turner had thought he’d noticed that in his own class, but he wasn’t sure if it had been his imagination. “I think you’re good for him.”

“I hope so,” Johnathon said. “It’s what I’m trying for.” 

“You been on any hot dates lately? Anything fun to report?” his friend wanted to know. Jon just scoffed. 

“Kind of focusing more on Shawn right now,” he replied. He knew he was giving up a large part of his life to help this boy out, but he was all right with it. 

“So, more like a full time dad, huh?” Eli asked. 

“The kid needs somebody,” Jon replied. 

“I’m not arguing that,” his friend said, then more quietly, “You see yourself in him, don’t you?” Jonathan took a long pull on his beer before he answered in the affirmative. 

“He is so much like you were when we were that age,” Eli agreed. 

“Why you ever started hanging out with me then, I don’t know,” Jon reflected. 

“Cause you were like Shawn is; the cool kid,” he reminded him. “You never really grew out of it, you know.”

“Thanks, man,” Jonathan laughed a little. “But the fact that I made it this far was thanks to you and a few other people that cared enough to help. Maybe I want to pay that forward with helping Shawn.”

“Me? How did I help?”

“Cause I knew you were going places, better places than I was, and I didn’t want to get left behind.” Jonathan paused, then added, “I’m hoping that’s what happens with Hunter and the Matthews kid.”

“Matthews does show promise,” Eli shared with him. “They both do. They like playing ham in class but I can tell they’re both bright.”

“Exactly,” Jonathan said, and went to the fridge for two more beers. “Hey, I know this isn’t your subject, but you know anybody that’s good with algebra?” 

  
  


“Just cause I’m not good at math doesn’t mean I want to be,” Shawn pouted. Mr. Turner tried his best not to roll his eyes. They only had a few minutes before his class started, and he was determined not to talk to Shawn in the halls any more than strictly necessary. Everyone, teachers and students alike, knew of their arrangement, and he tried to keep their out of class interaction to a minimum to save both of them. 

“I’m not saying you have to be good at it,” he told him now, “You just have to be able to pass the tests. You really don’t want to be in this building longer than you have to be in a few years, trust me.” This earned a half smile from the boy. Jonathan shoved the paper with the name and number on it into Shawn’s hand. 

“Now I’m sorry the tutor doesn’t have boobs, but he’s good at algebra and he’s willing to try to help you. It’s okay to accept help,” Mr. Turner told him. This line got a full smile out of Shawn.

“Well, if that’s the best you can do…,” the kid joked, then he got serious. “I’ll give him a call. Thanks, man.” Jon nodded in response, a bloom of pride growing in his chest, a bloom that only grew when Shawn got a C on his next algebra exam. He jokingly went to hang it on the fridge but Shawn ripped it down, laughing. Jonathan did notice that he didn’t throw it away like most of his test papers though. 

It took six weeks of living with his teacher for Chet to call his son. Shawn raced to the phone when he heard his father’s voice on the answering machine, giving Jonathan a little stab in his heart. It wasn’t jealousy, he swore; the kid had a dad, of course. The feeling just came from how he wished Chet was a little more available and didn’t make his kid so desperate for attention. He’d been beginning to wonder if the guy had even saved the number. 

“Hey sonny!” the gruff voice called out, and Shawn was up from his dinner on the couch like a flash and next to the phone. Then Jonathan could hear no more as the receiver was picked up. He continued with building his lesson plan at his desk in the corner of the open living room, torn between wanting to give his charge some privacy and curious as to how this conversation would go. 

“Hi, Dad!” Shawn’s voice was full of hope, a fact that also made Jonathon’s heart ache. “Did you find Mom yet?” 

“Oh.” A pause. 

“I’m doing okay. Yeah, he’s making me do chores.”

“I know. But hey, I passed my last math test!” A longer pause. 

“Maybe graduating would be good.” 

“I know you didn’t, but...No, I’m not trying to be better than anybody.” A laugh, only a little forced. 

“Thanks Dad. No, I’m good for now.” Shawn paused, his mouth open. His next words sounded like they took effort to expel. “I would like to see you though. And Mom.”

“I know. I know. No, I get it. Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do right?” Jonathan couldn’t see all of Shawn’s face from where he sat in the corner, but he knew the kid well enough by now to picture how his expression had fallen with these words, even though the tone was kept carefully light. No kid should have to put on this farce. It was all Mr. Turner could do to stay at his desk and not go and take the phone from Shawn and start berating this excuse for a father. At least his father had had the grace to step completely out of the picture and not pretend. Was that really better though, Jonathan reflected. He truly didn’t know. 

“Well, good luck,” Shawn was saying now. “Definitely sounds like you’re getting closer. Tell her I said hi when you see her, okay?” 

“Yeah, for sure. Okay, Dad, talk to you later.” A slight pause. “I love you.” Jonathan had the uneasy feeling the pay phone on the other side had already been hung up when Shawn said these words, as all that followed them was Shawn slowly and gently placing the receiver back in its cradle on the wall. The boy took a slow walk back to the couch, seeming like he was trying to pretend nothing had happened. Jonathan wasn’t sure if he should reach out or not. 

“Everything good, Shawn?” he called softly. Shawn turned just before he would have sat back down, nodding in what was supposed to be an easy manner. He was slowly rubbing his hands together in front of him. He shrugged his shoulders in what was clearly an attempt to be nonchalant. 

“Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. He hasn’t found her yet but he thinks he must be close. So that’s good, ya know?” A couple more nods and he flopped back down on the couch, picking up his plate of food again. Jonathan waited till he’d scarfed the rest of it down before he spoke again.

“Ya know, you can talk to me if something’s bothering you. I don’t care what it’s about or what time it is.” Shawn turned his head just enough for the teacher to see the boy’s profile. 

“Thanks, Jon.” Then he went back to the book that he was at least pretending to read for his English class, and Jonathan went back to his lesson plans for the next book. 

He hadn’t expected the kid to take him up on his offer quite so quickly, but in light of the phone call that day, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Jonathan was almost asleep when Shawn’s whisper came through the darkness of his bedroom. 

“Jon?” There was a roughness to the kid’s voice that the older man hadn’t heard before. “I know you said anytime, but I get it if…” Jonathan was awake again now, and rolled over to turn his bedside light on, spreading a mellow glow through the room and onto one Shawn Hunter, standing in his doorway. His face was shiny, like it had very recently been wet, and his hands were hidden in the pockets of his blue plaid pajama pants. 

“No,” Jonathan returned, moving his pillows against the headboard and laying back against them. “I meant what I said. What’s going on, Hunter?” Shawn shrugged, like it was the middle of the day and nothing was bothering him. 

“Eh, ya know, just thinking.” 

“C’mon in, have a seat,” Jonathon invited, even though the only place to sit was the bed. It wasn’t a large apartment and Jon had never seen the point in having more furniture and possessions than necessary. 

“Are you sure?” Shawn asked. “You gotta be up in the morning for school.” Mr. Turner smirked at him at this. 

“So do you!” 

“Yeah but I don’t care as much,” Shawn returned with his own teasing smirk.

“Get over here,” Jonathan commanded, and pat the edge of the bed. Shawn eased himself down between where Jon had patted and the corner of the mattress, facing away toward the rest of the room. Once he was seated, Shawn seemed to fold in on himself and Jonathan wished he could see his face. His arms wrapped around each other, his shoulders slumped, and his head came down. Jon had rarely seen a more dejected soul. 

“I just don’t get it,” Shawn’s voice came, small and lonely. “He’s my father, shouldn’t he want to be here with me? He’s been searching for her for weeks. At what point do you say what you left behind is more important than what you may or may not find out there?” 

“Shawn...” Jonathan’s heart tore in two at this fresh, if profound, admittance. Obviously the kid would like both of his parents, but the fact that both of them, not just one, were treating him as if he wasn’t the most important thing in their lives was...ridiculous and sad and maddening. 

“It feels like being thrown out, ya know?” Shawn said. “With the trash.”

“I do know,” Jon said, and he brought a hand up to rest on Shawn’s shoulder. He could have sworn the boy shivered at the touch. He probably didn’t get a lot of affection, Jonathan reasoned. Shawn lifted and turned his head enough so that Jon could see the question there. And the tracks of tears. “Yeah,” he added in response. “My dad took off when I was three and my mom gave up on me when I turned sixteen. She did try for a while, but I was such an asshole she let me go to juvie and never looked back.” Shawn rubbed his face hurriedly and turned it the rest of the way towards his temporary caregiver. 

“You?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” Jonathan confirmed. “I was in trouble all the time when I was your age. Why do you think I don’t want to see you take that path?” Shawn shrugged again; it was clearly a defense mechanism. 

“Kind of hard when your parents don’t care.”

“Shawn, you didn’t do anything to deserve this treatment, you know that right?” 

“I must have done something.” 

“Sometimes people just aren’t good at stuff. Like you’re not good at algebra, some people aren’t good at being parents.” Shawn turned and looked him in the face at this. 

“My dad’s at least still trying,” he defended, desperation in his tone. 

“He is,” Jonathan agreed. Barely, he didn’t add. Shawn’s gaze shifted to the side, to seemingly stare at a stripe on the printed bed sheet, but Jon surreptitiously watched the boy’s eyes lose focus as Shawn got lost in thought. He’d never seen the boy look so tired and vulnerable and openly sad. He was thankful that Shawn was feeling comfortable enough with him to come to him, but Jonathan’s heart broke anew at every emotional level that was uncovered. 

“C’mon, lay down,” Jonathan said softly, finally breaking the silence that had stretched between them. Before Shawn could protest, the older man had arranged the two pillows so one was separated for the boy to use, and he’d leaned over and flicked the light off. Jonathan moved his body back to give Shawn room, almost pressing his back against the wall that the bed was set along. 

He was waiting for Shawn to say that this was weird, or he didn’t need someone to take care of him like this, or some other reason to turn down the comfort. Instead he was rewarded by feeling the mattress shift under the boy’s weight as he settled his body a couple feet away from Jon’s, the most the full size bed would allow. Maybe this was weird, Jon thought, but wasn’t this whole situation? And what else are you supposed to do with anybody in the middle of the night when they need a safe place to be, both physically and emotionally? Shawn sighed in what seemed like a contented fashion as his head burrowed deeper into the pillow, and Jonathan couldn’t help but feel that he’d made the right decision. 


	3. Chapter 3

“BING! BING! BING! BING!”

“Ugh,” Jonathan involuntarily groaned as he reached over to hit the snooze button on his alarm clock. He liked teaching, but he’d never been a morning person and the hours the job came with weren’t getting any easier. As he rolled over to extend his arm towards his bedside table to shut the noise off, his shoulder connected with something solid, another body. Jon hurriedly rolled the rest of the way over to see Shawn curled up on the other side of the bed, as if he was trying not to take up too much room. Jonathan shut the alarm off so it wouldn’t wake the kid up, and eased himself back to his spot against the wall to study his charge. 

In sleep, Shawn looked like the lost little boy that he wouldn’t admit he was while he was awake. Dark lashes rested against cheeks that had only recently lost their childlike roundness, and as if to accentuate this, there were three or four wispy hairs that decorated just the beginning of a sculpted jaw. His hair was a wreck, and Jonathan almost laughed at how Shawn would hate for anyone to know it didn’t always look perfect. His forehead was smooth in sleep, his expression finally calm and easy. Jon could see why Shawn was so popular with the girls, aside from his confident aura and bad boy image. Jon would say that he would be a heartbreaker one day if he hadn’t already heard that he was. One more way they were alike, the older man mused as he began to ease himself out of the bed. Shawn didn’t have to be at the school as early as he did, and he wasn’t about to disturb the peaceful rest he’d been able to grant him any earlier than he had to. 

Before he turned away to start getting ready for work, on impulse he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Shawn’s head, on the messy dark brown hair. Jonathan knew he was feeling far more fatherly, affectionate even, towards the kid than perhaps he should, and he knew actions like that didn’t help. But he couldn’t argue with the warmth that spread through him when he kissed his head, or how rewarding it was to see Shawn cuddle deeper into the blanket that Jonathan adjusted over him.

He was rather surprised to see the boy in the halls at school later, not running late. He’d reset the alarm for him but wouldn’t have been shocked if Shawn had ignored it. He almost seemed to care about school lately. Jon still wasn’t holding his breath. A tiger didn’t change his stripes that quickly. But the paper that came across his desk that Friday, analyzing The Scarlet Letter, proved that Shawn was trying, far more than he used to. Jon checked twice that Hunter’s name was actually the one on it, and he was glad that the kid was spending most of the weekend at the Matthews so that he could grade it without him around. It had faults, certainly, but most of the grammar was correct, and he seemed to understand the main themes of the book. He proudly wrote a B- on the top of the paper, then after reading and grading the rest, went back and revisited it, wanting to make sure he wasn’t showing favoritism. No, definitely Shawn’s best work in his class so far. 

Jonathan couldn't wait to hand the reports back to his students for a change. As he went around the room, filling grasping and uncaring hands in turn with the wrinkled pieces of notebook paper, he still tried his best not to get too invested in the reactions, as he always did. Miss Lawrence had done beautifully, as always, but always had more to say, especially if she hadn’t gotten an A+, which she hadn’t on this particular one. Mr. Douglas always thought he’d written the world’s best paper, but there was so much room for improvement, which Mr. Turner had gone over with him more than once. Mr. Matthews, bless the potential that he had, just couldn't seem to care enough. Miss McKay, popping her gum, pretended hard that she couldn't care less, but she was in truth pretty sharp, and her work showed it. And Mr. Hunter, well, he normally took pride in having one of the worst grades in the class so Jonathan expected him to show some sort of surprise at receiving this report back. 

“Good work, Hunter,” Jon couldn't help but tell him as he handed the paper back to him. Shawn’s deep blue eyes looked up at him, in curiosity and just a little mistrust as he took the sheet. Jon saw him glance at it, then tuck it quickly into his folder. As he moved on down the row, out of the corner of his eye he watched the Matthews boy twist back to his friend.

“Good work?! What’d you get?” the curly headed boy asked. 

“C-,” Shawn replied coolly. “It’s not that special.” 

Jonathan had to bite the inside of his cheek and focus on the next student in front of him. Why couldn't Shawn just be proud of himself for doing good work? He held his tongue through dinner that night, and through watching Shawn do his homework from a distance, and through Monday night wrestling that he hated but he didn’t care if Shawn watched. He got ready for bed with it still bothering him, but telling himself to let it go. Hunter just wanted to fit in with his friends; he didn’t want to stick out as the smart one. That was his business, right? 

He jumped at the knock on his door frame. Glancing up from the psychology book he’d been working on reading for weeks, he saw Shawn leaning against the doorway, a sheet of paper in his hand. 

“What’s up, man?” he asked the kid. 

“You know what’s up,” Shawn replied, his voice edging on accusatory and his expression flat. Jon’s eyebrows raised in a question, too confused to be offended by Shawn’s tone. “This thing,” Shawn almost spat, and waved the paper in the air briefly. Jon had a feeling he knew what that was from here. 

“Let me see,” he told the boy, and held his hand out, letting his book fall to his side. 

“You need to fix it,” Shawn said as he stepped closer and handed his teacher his English paper. The older man looked down at his student’s handwriting for a moment, then at the letter and symbol above it.

“No I don’t,” he said simply, and held it back out. He met Shawn’s eyes, hoping he could read what the boy was about there, but he just rolled his in return. 

“I get it,” the boy shot. “I’m like your special project. ‘Let’s save the screw up.’ But you can’t have the integrity to be honest with my grade while you play savior?” Jonathan sat up in bed from his leaning posture at this.

“Shawn...” he started, not sure whether he was insulted or just surprised. He swallowed, thinking before he spoke. The kid was almost staring him down, and he had the unsettling feeling he could see right through Jon. “I promise you, I have been careful to be as honest and professional with your grade as I am with anybody else’s.” Shawn’s eyebrow cocked and he smirked in clear disbelief.

“C’mon, you know Feeny would have my head if I did otherwise. Even if I wanted to,” Jonathan told the boy, earning a slightly softer expression being aimed at him. “What’s wrong with that grade anyway?” Shawn scoffed.

“Really?” he asked. “I don’t get B’s. The only reason I’d get a grade that high is pity. Or favoritism.” Jonathan lifted his head to stare at the ceiling for a moment. Even in trying to defend his low grades, the kid was smart. He closed his eyes as he lowered his head, then opened them slowly, sighing. He studied Shawn in silence for another moment. 

“You really don’t get it do you?” he asked, his tone sharp, making the boy’s eyes squint defensively. “You are not stupid, Hunter. Not by a damn long shot. And you are not a fucking screw up!” He was aware he almost shouted this last sentence, and immediately felt bad. Shawn had taken a step back at the increase in volume, and his expression had lost its mocking quality. He recovered quickly however. 

“Just cause you’re the only one that thinks so doesn’t make it true,” he threw back. 

“I am not the only one that thinks so. Haven’t all of your grades been getting better lately?” Shawn shrugged one shoulder.

“And before you can go there, because I know you’re intelligent enough to come up with this theory too, I don’t have enough clout with the other teachers to influence that. Again, even if I wanted to. And my job as a teacher is to stay professional no matter what. You staying here does not have any effect on what grade I give you. You earn them, the same as you did before. You earned that B-, Hunter. It was a well written paper.” Shawn shook his head slightly, making Jonathan want to scream but he held it in, waiting to see what the kid might say. 

“Why are you so determined on this?” Shawn said quietly, his gaze on Jon’s face intense now. And Jonathan knew he couldn't be anything but straightforward and sincere with him. 

“Because I care, Hunter. About you,” he returned, staring back at Shawn just as intently, regardless of how the boy’s cheeks blushed at this starkness. The teen just stood there, looking as if he might run out of the room, but also looking as if he might break right there. How many times had the kid been honestly told that? Jon mused, and he raised himself out of bed before he could think about it. Hoping Shawn wouldn’t bolt before he could reach him, Jon stepped towards him and reached his arms out. The blue eyes widened as they looked up into the teacher’s, the expression unsure but then Shawn leaned forward and accepted the hug that was being offered. Jonathan’s arms wrapped around the slighter form, and his cheek came to rest on the top of the boy’s hair. He was surprised how tightly Shawn gripped him back, and again Jon wondered how much affection he’d experienced in his life. As the boy’s head rested against his chest, the older man’s heart swelled. This was a new breakthrough, certainly, but Jon knew he still had to tread carefully. Vulnerability was not easy.

When the hug broke, Jonathan hated to have to send Shawn back to the living room to sleep on the couch, but it’s not like he could invite him into his bed with him again. That could not become a regular thing, he knew. He watched the boy head to the living room, wrinkled English paper in his hand, and wished there was somehow even more that he could do for him. Jon crawled back into bed, his overloaded mind desperate for rest. 


	4. Chapter 4

When Jon woke, it was with that unsettling sense that something wasn’t right. He could hear the faucet in the bathroom down the hall turn off and Shawn whistling to himself. What he was not hearing was his alarm clock. Of course he wasn’t, he berated himself, because he’d forgotten to set it. Jon jumped out of bed and reached for some clothes; the ones from yesterday would work, he’d just grab a different jacket. If he hurried, he’d still be able to get to school before his first class started. 

“Aw, man, I thought English class was going to be canceled today,” came Shawn’s voice as he stepped out of the bathroom, his hands tucked in the back pockets of his jeans and his hair perfectly coiffed once again. Jonathan pierced him with a playfully chastising look before diving into the bathroom himself and shutting the door. He opened it a quarter of a second later. 

“Wait a second, shouldn’t you have left already too?” he asked Shawn, who was just about to flop himself onto the couch and turn the TV on. 

“Well, ya know, just following the example of my illustrious professor,” the teen called over his shoulder. 

“Shawn!” Jonathan all but growled as he closed the door again. He brushed his teeth and touched his own hair up at lightning speed, throwing the items he was done with back on the counter with both haste and annoyance. The kid knew better, of course he did. He’d gotten up and gotten ready for school. Was this a response to the good grade? Did he want to prove he still wasn’t a good student this way? And, ‘illustrious professor’? Where had he picked that up? 

Jonathan flew out of the bathroom, grabbed a dark blue blazer and his leather jacket, and almost ran right into the two pieces of bread being held in front of him suddenly in the walkway to the door. He grabbed the toast from Shawn’s hand, shooting the kid a thankful smile, and shoved half of one piece in his mouth as he reached for his bike helmet. He stooped and retrieved his spare helmet from under the bench that he kept by the door and he thrust it towards Shawn. 

“Get your books, you’re still going to school. And this is NOT a reward for trying to play hooky.” Shawn paused for only a second, staring at the helmet he was holding. Then he scooped most of the mess that was his school books from where they lived on the coffee table now into his backpack and threw it over his shoulder. Jon had finished scarfing down the toast by the time the teen was back beside him. 

“I don’t know what this thing’s gonna do to my hair,” Shawn said ruefully, studying the helmet while the two took the elevator down.

“Put it on,” Jonathan commanded in a tone that would brook no argument, almost surprising himself with how stern he sounded. But Shawn complied, and was ready to go by the time they got to Turner’s bike. Ironic how one of the first times that Jonathan had felt drawn to and protective of the boy was when Shawn had been about to take a baseball bat to his beloved Harley. And now here he was, letting the kid climb on the back of it. He could feel Shawn’s slight hesitancy as he settled himself into the seat and got ready to fire the engine up. 

Turning his head and speaking loud enough to be heard through two helmets, he instructed, “Keep your feet on the rests no matter what and hold on tight to me. When I lean, lean with me but not more than me.” Then he turned the key and gave Shawn only a half a minute to situate himself better, then he twisted the throttle. Jon felt the boy’s grip tighten around his ribs, a familiar sensation from giving other people, generally women he was dating, rides on his bike. 

He was always a little more careful, a little more aware, when there was someone else riding behind him, respecting the possibilities of what could happen and never wanting to get anyone hurt. But he found as he turned the familiar corners to the school that having Shawn on the back of the bike took this to a whole new level. He was in a hurry, and while he would normally have let that affect his driving, now he was actually going a bit slower than usual. 

He was thankful when they finally got to the school and dismounted. Shawn had done well, and Jon determined he would take him out riding sometime when it wasn’t a necessity. Checking his watch, he saw he had four minutes to get to his first class. Shawn removed his helmet and started fixing his hair in the bike mirror, like he did this everyday.

“Class. Now,” he reminded him, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder and turning him towards the direction of the front of the building.

“Thanks, man,” Shawn said as they parted, Jonathan to head into the teachers’ entrance. “I get to drive home, yeah?” the cocky young voice added, and Jon barely had a chance to give him an exasperated eye roll before Shawn had ducked around the corner of the building, that incorrigible smirk plastered on his face. Jon shook his head as he entered the school. He was glad Shawn was not in his first class of the day. 

At lunch hour, Jon went back to the teacher’s lounge with a much needed cup of coffee and sunk into one of the plastic chairs. The day had not been bad so far, considering he hadn’t had time to prepare for his classes. He prided himself on being flexible though, and he thought he’d been able to tie in his lesson plans pretty well with the conversations that had organically grown in his morning classes. He began to have doubts when he saw George Feeny enter the lounge and make a beeline for him, however. The older man sat down at the same table without a word and placed his own mug of coffee in front of him. 

“Jon,” he acknowledged the younger man.

“George,” the English teacher returned, with a slight respectful nod. He had a vague sense he was in trouble. Well, he had been late, after all, and he was ready to take his lumps. 

“So I must ask you, what have you done to Shawn Hunter?” At this unexpected query, Jonathan didn’t even notice his own quick intake of breath and his eyes shifting to the side for half a second. 

“Hunter? Nothing,” he replied, keeping his cool. Why should he be nervous at that question? he thought in the back of his mind. He’d done nothing wrong. 

“Then why did I just overhear him asking Mr. Matthews when their history exam is? Almost as if he cared. As if he might think about studying for it.” 

“Oh, he will,” Jonathan replied. “He does homework for an hour minimum every night. I have a harder time keeping him tied down on the weekends, but that’s usually because he’s at Matthews’ and I just kind of hope for the best.” George’s usually guarded and somewhat wry expression cracked just a bit as he regarded Jon, and the younger man swore he saw a hint of admiration peep through. 

“Well, I must say, whatever you’re doing seems to be working. Even if those methods are rather unorthodox, like yours usually are,” the older gentleman admitted, a small smile emerging. “Even if they are as unorthodox as bringing a student with you to work on your motorcycle.” His voice was slightly chastising now and Jonathan’s eyes widened. “Yes,” George continued, “I saw that. In their infinite aesthetic appreciation, the planners of this school decided the principal’s office should overlook the scenic parking lot.” 

“We were both running late,” Jon explained. “It won’t be a regular occurrence.” Mr. Feeny studied him for a moment with that way that only he had: that way that made it feel as if your very soul was being examined. His fingers gently tapped the lip of his coffee mug. 

“Jonathan, I’ll only tell you what I’ve been telling you all along; tread carefully. I’ve been teaching for most of my life, and I know how easy it is to get attached to the ones that seem like they need you. But there’s certain lines that just shouldn’t be crossed.” Like letting them sleep in bed with you, Jon couldn’t help the thought flit across his mind. Outwardly, though, he just maintained a thoughtful expression, honestly mulling over George’s words. He felt he had a case to state, however.

“You’re seeing the difference in him though, right?” he now asked his superior. “Caring about tests, passing some of them, and he wrote a paper in my class that was the best I’ve seen from him. He really seems like he’s doing better, George.” The older man smiled at him again.

“I never denied that. Honestly, I think you’ve been wonderful for him. I do worry about the future, though. Has his father been in much contact?” Jonathan scoffed without thinking. 

“Shawn’s heard from him once. Once. In two months.” He knew his indignation at the situation shone through clearly. George was nodding. 

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do if the...man...doesn’t come back?” His own lack of respect for Shawn’s father showed in the way he spoke of him, but he was naturally much more reserved about it than the younger man. Jonathan had to mull this over. It was something he’d only thought of once or twice and then immediately shied away from. He knew it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, but raising a teenager for the next four or five years? That certainly hadn’t been in his plans when he’d offered Shawn a place to stay. What would he do though? He knew, in his heart, that he wouldn’t send the boy away. He couldn’t. He was aware of George watching him closely. 

“You are a good man, Jonathan,” the principal said now, and began to stand up. His hand fell on the English teacher’s shoulder and gave a friendly squeeze. “Just don’t let that cloud your judgment.” And with that, George left him with his thoughts, and to finish his coffee with what was left of his lunch break. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Where. Were. You,” Jonathan’s teeth locked together as he fought not to yell. If looks could kill, Shawn would have been dead as soon as he opened the door to the apartment and slipped in, thinking he was being sneaky. Jon saw his face fall and his eyes widen as he took in the lights that were still on and his English teacher turned temporary guardian sitting on the couch waiting for him. Shawn just shrugged, trying hard to maintain his cool. Jonathan had never wanted to hit a student before, but the thought of clouting this boy on the side of the head was horribly tempting right now. 

“It is one o’clock in the morning, Hunter. You are lucky I didn’t send the cops out after you!” 

“Can’t do that till I’m missing for twenty-four hours,” Shawn’s cockiness was back way too soon. 

“Where were you?” Jonathan asked again, his voice almost shaking. “Cut the crap or you’re not going anywhere but school for a month.” Shawn had slipped out of his leather jacket but didn’t want to get any closer to the couch, where he normally would have retreated to. 

“I was on a date. You knew that,” he replied now, his tone lowering in confidence just a bit. For all his bravado, Jon knew he knew when he’d done something wrong. 

“It’s one o’clock in the morning,” he repeated. “I had a date tonight, too. You are not allowed to get home later than me!”

“Well, maybe mine went better than yours,” Shawn said smoothly, and though he knew he was in trouble, that smirk just couldn’t help coming out. Jonathan wanted to wipe it off of his face. 

“Shawn. Seriously. Last time. Where were you?” He was trying to keep his voice as level as he could but he’d been home from his date for two hours, and not only had he expected Shawn to be back by the time he was, there had been no sign of him in that time. Jon had been sitting there, debating whether he should go out and look for him, wondering if something had happened, or if he should wait by the phone in case something had happened. If the kids had gone into the city proper, who knows what could happen, or even outside of the city. He hadn’t even known what they’d been planning on doing, or how they’d get there, and he made a mental note to grill Shawn on exact plans on all future dates, assuming he ever let him go on any again. He couldn't remember the last time he’d been this stressed, and even now his stomach was feeling unsteady, as if it wanted to throw up in relief. 

“Emily has a car,” Shawn finally shared. Jonathan just stared at him intently, waiting for the rest. “We were at Lookout Point.” The boy’s face was trying to be carefully blank, the older man could tell, but he also saw the undercurrent of teenage pride. His stomach rolled over again at this knowledge. 

“Lookout Point?” he repeated. “Don’t you think you’re a little young to be going out with a girl that has a car?” Even as he said it, he sensed the futility. He would have loved to have gotten an older girl with a car when he was Shawn’s age. 

“I went out with one that had one last year,” he boasted in response to this. “And I’ll be fifteen soon. I’m not that young. Plus, Emily didn’t seem to mind.” And there was the smirk again. Jonathan heaved a deep sigh, studying his charge. He moved over to make room on the couch. 

“Shawn. Sit down.” The boy looked at him sideways.

“You’re not going to kill me?” 

“No, I’m not going to kill you. Just have a seat.” 

“You’re going to try to talk to me about sex aren’t you?” 

“Maybe,” Jon admitted. He felt his face flush. Here was nice new territory he had no idea how to handle. 

“You’re not my dad,” came the reminder. 

“Shawn, just sit down, please.” 

The teen lowered himself to the cushions and leaned back. Now Jon could smell the girl’s cheap perfume on Shawn and noticed the darkening mark on the skin above the collar of his dark green long sleeve tee. He was a little boy; what did he think he was playing at? But Jon knew he was not truly a little boy, anymore than he himself had been at that age. How in the hell did one start this conversation, he asked himself. Shawn did it for him. 

“We didn’t go all the way,” he told Jonathan. 

“Did you want to?” he asked him, not sure if he was crossing a line of privacy. But he was supposed to be taking care of the kid right now, and he supposed this was part of it. 

“Well, yeah,” Shawn replied, in a tone that said it was a matter of course. “Sorta,” he added. 

“Sort of?” 

“Look,” the teen said levelly, “I know I might be a little young for  _ that _ . But there’s no harm in having some fun, is there?” What did he say to that? The adult in charge should know what to say to that. 

“Not really...” he began carefully, not sure at all that that was the right thing. “As long as you can stop yourself and be able to think before you do something you know you’re too young for.” Shawn chuckled briefly.

“Thinking’s a little hard if you know what I mean, when...” the boy trailed off.

“I know,” Jon said, in a sympathetic tone, that made it clear he understood. “But you gotta. The best you can at least. The alternative is not worth it.” 

“Are you gonna tell me about getting a chick knocked up when you were sixteen and there’s a kid somewhere you don’t know?” Shawn asked, clearly remembering their other heart-to-hearts that involved Jon sharing a piece of his past. The older man laughed a bit, in equal amusement, relief, and imagined horror. 

“No! At least, oh god, I hope not.” He then turned dead serious again. “But it’s not just that you have to worry about. I don’t know how good the health class is at John Adams, but there’s a whole load of diseases you can get, and some of them don’t go away.” Shawn was not looking like this was new information at least, but Jon felt he had to share it. 

“So get some condoms is what you’re saying,” Shawn replied. 

“Or just don’t put yourself in tempting situations like you did tonight.” Shawn just looked at Jon for a moment, the expression clear on his face. Yeah, Jon knew better than that. He sighed softly. 

“Yeah, get yourself some condoms. I’d like to say if you can’t buy them yourself you shouldn’t even think of using them, but if it helps you err on the safe side, I’ll even buy them for you.” He really hoped this was the right thing to be doing. “But they’re not an excuse!” he added sternly. “They’re a…contingency plan.” 

“I get it,” Shawn said, and Jonathan could only hope he really did. 

“There’s still the matter of being out too late,” Jon reminded him. 

“Too late is in the eye of the beholder,” Shawn returned, his smartass shield showing again. 

“And as long as you live here, I’m the beholder,” Jon told him. “Ten o’clock, man, that’s it. It’ll help you not be in those situations that make you have to try to think as much.” Though he knew this wasn’t strictly true; it was easy enough to get in plenty of trouble earlier in the night. But the scenario of a fourteen year old in a car with a sixteen year old (at least; Jonathan was going to pretend there was no way she was older than that) at midnight was just asking for bad things to happen. 

“Ten?!” came Shawn’s complaint. 

“Whine about it and it can become nine,” Jonathan told him. Shawn sighed, knowing he had no ground to stand on. Jon wasn’t even sure ten wasn’t too late. “And for tonight’s stunt, you’re not going anywhere but school for two weeks,” he added. He would never forget how scared he’d been before Shawn had walked in that door, how worried about the boy he’d been. 

“Two weeks!” Shawn was purely indignant at this. “What about Cory’s?” he asked, probably thinking that was the safe exception. 

Jonathan struggled internally for a moment, then answered, “Not even to his place. School, here, school, here. That’s it.” 

“You can’t do that!” Shawn protested, running his hands through his hair in frustration. 

“I can, and I am,” the man returned, then gentling his tone, asked him, “Shawn, do you have any idea what it was like for me to sit here and not know where you were? To not know if you were safe? Or alive?” Or breaking the law, he didn’t let himself add. To the kid’s developing look of retort, he did add, “I know, I know. You can take care of yourself. But not from everything. Not by a long shot.” He suddenly realized his throat was tightening up. He swallowed the lump. 

“You were that worried about me?” Shawn asked. Jon just nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. 

“I’m sorry,” the boy said in an unexpectedly small voice. The older man looked up from where he’d been focusing on the carpet texture, and into Shawn’s eyes. He was being sincere. “I’m just not used to curfews and people worrying about me, at least that much.” Jonathan couldn't help it; he lifted his arms and drew the teen into a hug, almost crushing him, feeling his heart thudding against his chest. It was so good, so reassuring, so calming, to have Shawn here where he belonged again. Here at home, the thought wouldn't stay suppressed. The boy let himself be hugged, seeming to know Jon needed the comfort. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” Jonathan said, pulling away. He knew what the chances were of this, but he still had to say it. He was hoping with all the stress of the evening he’d be able to pass out when he went to bed, but instead he barely slept that night, all the worries of a surrogate parent driving him insane. 


	6. Chapter 6

He concentrated on one movement at a time. Cracking open each egg, the plop of the white and yolk into the bowl, the clink and scrape of the fork as he beat the eggs, then the satisfying hiss as he poured them into the hot frying pan. Jon took another gulp of coffee to brace himself for this day. Maybe it was time to admit he was not equipped to have a teenager around long term. Of course, when he’d signed on for this, he didn’t think it was going to on this long. This was going on months now, but he knew he couldn't say he was surprised, with the way Chet Hunter was. Something had to give, Jonathan knew that much. 

The bathroom door cracked open and a low voice drifted out, lyrics to a Spin Doctors’ tune preceding its owner. 

“ _Said if you want to call me baby, just go ahead now. And if you like to tell me maybe just go ahead now. And if you wanna to buy me flowers just go ahead now_...” Jonathan looked up to see Shawn waltz across the living room, a towel wrapped around his hips, clearly comfortable with his surroundings. Maybe a little too much so. 

Jon quietly studied the boy in earnest as he gathered clothes from the makeshift dresser they’d set up for him by the couch. Shawn’s hair hung in wet strings that just brushed his neck below his ears. He was unaware of being watched and his face was relaxed as he continued to hum the song. He was pale, and so thin, but Jon thought he saw slightly more bulk to his form than he’d had a few months ago. He was doing his best to feed him as much as he could eat. He reached over to break and scramble a couple of extra eggs. 

“Shawn!” he called out when he was done cooking. “Grub’s on!” He poured himself another cup of coffee while he waited for the boy to most likely finish his hair. Sure enough, Shawn’s coif was perfect when he stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later, even though Jon hoped he remembered he wasn’t going anywhere today due to the grounding of last night. 

“Ooh, bacon and eggs,” the teenager said as he sat down and picked up his fork to dig in. “What’s the occasion?” 

“Got to make sure you’re fed,” Jon told him. “Get some meat on those scrawny bones.” Shawn just rolled his eyes. Jon reached for the newspaper and opened it to the classifieds, to the apartments for rent section. 

“So what would you think about having your own room?” he asked Shawn now. Jon liked his apartment, but if this was going to go on any longer, some things needed to change. The teen paused in inhaling his food to look up and give a half smile.

“Aw, Jon, you don’t have to give me your room,” he returned. “I’m just fine camping on the couch.” Jon saw the twinkle in his eye and smiled back at the boy, well used to his jokes now. 

“No, I mean it. What if you had your own room, in a different apartment? What if we got another place?” Shawn swallowed a mouthful of egg and just stared at Jon for a moment.

“You’d...do that? For me?” His eyes asked the question of why. 

“Yeah,” Jon answered. “Well, for us. If we’re doing this, you deserve your own room, and we both need a little more space and privacy.” He watched Shawn consider over their next bites of breakfast. 

Then, speaking to his plate so that Jonathan almost had to strain to hear, “He’s not coming back for me is he?” Jon actually felt a stabbing pain in his chest at this. 

“I don’t know, Shawn,” he answered honestly. “He still might. I don’t know.” He’d never felt so helpless. He could give the boy shelter, plenty of food, as much love as he could without losing himself, his own room...but he couldn’t fix the sense of abandonment that his own parents were putting him through. He wanted to say that even if Chet showed up tomorrow, he wouldn’t even let him have Shawn back. But he very well couldn't do that, could he? 

“Can I have a TV in my room?” was the next question that came across the table, making Jon sigh with relief. He knew the teen must be hurting, but he wasn’t up to many emotions today, being so tired. 

“We’ll see,” he told him with a half smile, and began to look at listings in earnest. 

  
  


The following Monday, in between classes, Jonathan went to see Mr. Feeny. The older man welcomed him into his office, not even looking surprised to see him like Jon thought he might. 

“What brings you here?” George asked. “Something with the young Mr. Hunter I’m guessing?” he prodded when Jon sat in the chair across from him and didn’t say anything at first. Jonathan heaved a huge sigh. 

“Yeah,” he let out on the exhale. “Do you know what the child abandonment laws are like in this state?” he asked. The older teacher studied the younger one, the permanent furrow that seemed to be developing on his brow and the serious expression the principal had never seen stay on his face for more than a few moments. George rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then proceeded to fold his hands upon the desk in front of him. 

“I would imagine this means that the elder Mr. Hunter has not graced us with his presence lately?” 

“He can’t even grace his own son with a phone call!” Jon nearly spat. The frustration at seeing Shawn hurt was bubbling up and he didn’t know if he could stop it. “Like, how do you do that? Just leave and not come back? Just trust near strangers to take care of your kid for you? I’m doing the best I can but I’m not his dad. Do you know what it’s like to look into his eyes and have to answer if his father is coming back or not?” Jon’s throat had grown a sudden lump in it, and he had to swallow in an attempt to clear it. He could feel George staring at him but he needed another adult to bounce these things off of. 

“I cannot fathom how difficult it’s been for both of you,” the older man said gently. “Jonathan...”

“And then the other night we had to have the sex talk and I had to ground him,” Jon interrupted, reminding himself he had to pick up some condoms on the way home. George chuckled gently across the desk from him. 

“Ah yes, another reason I am thankful I never had children of my own,” the principal said. “Jonathan,” he tried again, “Am I hearing that you have reached the parameters of what you are able to give young Shawn? You have done far more than many would have and I am willing to help you find other alternatives.”

“What?” Jon looked up at the other man, surprised indignation coloring his expression before his face relaxed in understanding. “No. No, not at all. In fact, I’m going to look at a two bedroom apartment after work, so we can have more of a normal living situation. So Shawn can have a more normal living situation. His own room and all that. But I guess, before I go that far, I guess I should know what the laws are. That, and I want his file.” Jon cast an eye towards the sizable filing cabinet that took up most of the right wall of the principal’s office, where he knew all the student files were kept. 

George was more somber than perhaps the younger man had ever seen him, and that was saying something. 

“You are aware what you’re implying?” he asked him simply, but with a gravid tone. The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Jonathan slowly nodded. 

“What am I going to do, George?” he said in reply. “I’m not letting that kid down. He needs me. What are the alternatives? Foster care? Hell no. He’s staying with me. I’ll do whatever it takes.” A hint of a smile turned the corners of the older man’s mouth up. 

“You’ve both come a long way,” he praised, then he sighed and sobered again. “I believe the law is that if there’s been six months with no continuing support from the parental units, you have every right to pursue legal action, but here’s a lawyer that I know that will be able to help you further.” He opened one of his desk drawers and slid a business card across to Jonathan. “It’s been almost six months now, hasn’t it?” Jon nodded grimly, studying the card. 

“Thanks,” he said. 

“And what if Chet were to come back tomorrow and try to take Shawn with him?” George asked now, his tone gentle. 

“He’d have to go through me,” Jonathan said matter-of-factly. One shoulder raised and lowered in a quick shrug. “I mean, it’d be up to Shawn obviously, but he would know he has a place with me no matter what.” George nodded without a word and rose from his chair, crossing to the filing cabinet. 

“You think I’m crazy?” Jonathan asked as the older man opened the drawer marked H-I-J. 

“Yes,” George told him, placing a file three inches thick and weighing at least two pounds in his hands. “But in the best of ways,” he added with a twinkle in his eye. Jonathan raised his brows and snorted a laugh at the pile of records on one boy he was holding. 

“Why am I not surprised?”

“The good news is I haven’t had to add anything to that for over three months. That’s a definite improvement. Also, what you won’t find in there is that his favorite color is green, and he likes a band called the Counting Crows,” George added, his tone warm. Jonathan smiled to himself. So much for the old man’s philosophy on not getting attached to students. 

“I know,” he returned. “And his favorite meal is mac and cheese and hot dogs and he also likes the Spin Doctors. He’s always wanted a pet and his favorite car is a 68 Camaro.” George beamed at him.

“You’re doing the right thing, Jonathan,” the older man told him, and then Jon had to rush to his next class, his heart full and his mind overloaded. 


	7. Chapter 7

The gratitude and joy in the car was palpable as Jon drove back from the downtown Philly area.

“That was amazing!” Shawn stressed for the fourth time. “Thank you so much, man! Best birthday ever!” Jonathan’s face was fixed in almost as permanent of a smile as Shawn’s. It had been incredibly rewarding to watch the teen’s eyes light up when he realized where they were going for the evening, and then to watch him enjoy one of his favorite bands at his first concert. Even though Jon barely knew The Counting Crows’ music, he had to admit they weren’t bad, and clearly Shawn almost worshiped them. 

“Well, you deserve it. Your grades have been steadily good, and you only turn fifteen once.” He turned onto the Matthews’ street, steering the borrowed car carefully. It felt strange to drive something with four wheels but if he was going to take both boys, he’d needed more than just his bike. 

“Yeah, Mr. Turner, that was so cool,” Cory added. “Thank you too.” Jon knew how much it meant to the friends to spend time together, and though he’d really extended himself to take Cory as well, especially with all the expenses of the new apartment, he didn’t regret it for a moment. 

“ _Mr. Jones and me tell each other fairy tales, and we stare at the beautiful women. Ah no, no, she’s looking at you, no she’s looking at me_ ,” the two friends sang together as Jon parked the car in the Matthews’ driveway. 

“Shawn, you sure you don’t want to stay here for the night? I can just come get you when most of the stuff’s done.” The next day was moving day into the new place. Jon rued the fact that the concert had been the night before he had scheduled that, but that was how things worked sometimes. Once he’d looked at Shawn’s file and realized that his birthday was in three weeks, he’d had to work quickly to plan something. It was pure luck that the Counting Crows had been coming to town that night. 

“And miss our last night in the old pad?” Shawn asked. “I can stay here anytime.” 

“Yeah, next weekend I think there’s a Van Damme marathon on,” Cory told him. 

“Perfect,” Shawn said as all three got out of the car. Jonathan handed the keys to Cory. 

“Well, tell your parents thanks for the loaner, and not to be offended that we’re taking off,” he told the boy as he dug his own keys out of his pocket. He and Shawn had taken the bike here, and would be taking it back to the apartment. 

“I will,” Cory said, “Thanks again.” The teens fist bumped each other in farewell, and Jon and Shawn climbed on the Harley. It was a warm early April evening, and the two of them had gotten used enough to sharing the bike that Jon was able to let his mind wander a bit as he drove. He was glad, for time’s sake, that the Matthews’ suburb was not too far from his place. His old place, he corrected himself. He had been secretly hoping Shawn would stay at Cory’s for the night, so he could have the last night in his apartment to himself, the way it always used to be. But he realized his life had changed too much for that now, and that that was a decision he had openly made. 

He had called that lawyer, and discovered that he certainly could try to get custody of Shawn once the six months of his father being gone were up, which, best as he could figure, they already were. He was not sure he wanted to push the issue that far right away, though if he was going to this extent of moving so that he could be a better guardian, what did that leave but for him to be the actual guardian? He didn’t quite want to steal Shawn from his dad, for one thing, and then there was the question of what Shawn would want. But he had been more than willing to look at apartments with Jon, and seemed to be looking forward to having his own room, even though Jon hadn’t given him a definite answer on the question of the TV yet. 

With the older man preoccupied with his thoughts and wanting to get up early, and the newly fifteen year old boy’s head full of fresh, wonderful memories of his first concert, neither noticed the blinking light on the answering machine when they got back. They shared a hug before they bedded down for the night, like it was normal now, and Jon silently celebrated the victory. The way Shawn clung onto him, like he needed him, made Jonathan feel important, and that maybe he was making a difference in the boy’s life. 

“Happy birthday, kid,” he told him as he ruffled his hair and then shut out the light, thankful this would be the last night of couch sleeping for the guy. 

Jon woke up abruptly when the knock came on the apartment door, but then he realized who it would be and his head fell back on the pillow for just a moment. He knew Eli would still be there if he took some time to answer. Opening his eyes again, trying to force himself awake, they widened at the sight of Shawn curled up on the other side of his bed. He sighed; he couldn’t blame the kid, and he had left his door open, true to the promise that he was there for Shawn at any time. 

“Wakey, wakey,” Jonathan told him as he slid to the bottom of the bed so he didn’t have to climb over Shawn. 

The knock came again as Jon’s feet hit the floor, and Eli called, “You’re the one that wanted me here this early, man!” 

“C’mon, Shawn, got to get up,” Jon urged as he quickly changed from pajama pants into jeans. He could have wished that they would have woken up before Eli got there to help with the move, because he wasn’t sure he wanted his friend to see Shawn coming out of his room looking like he’d slept in his bed, but there was no help for it now. The teen did not seem like he was going to be upright fast enough. Jon shook Shawn’s leg and his own head on the way out of his bedroom door and to the living room. 

“You and the kid party too late last night at that concert?” Eli asked when Jon finally swung the door open to let him in.

“Yeah a little,” Jon chuckled. “He had a great time though.” 

“Oh I bet,” his friend agreed. “You’re the coolest non-dad he’s probably ever had. Got any coffee around here?” Eli headed towards the kitchen, walking among the piles of boxes. 

“That was one thing I was smart enough not to pack,” Jonathan said, yawning, as he followed him. On the way, the blinking light on the answering machine caught his eye. 

“What, did you try giving me a wake up call?” he asked Eli, stopping by the phone and machine. 

“Nope, that’s not me,” he replied, making himself at home and liberally spooning coffee into a filter. “Better not be Ryan either, backing out,” he added, referring to another friend of theirs, who was also supposed to be helping today. 

“I never even heard the phone,” Jonathan remarked, and reached for the button. He pressed play and the robotic female voice announced the message had come in the night before, at 9:09 pm. They’d been at the concert, and he hadn’t even thought to check it before they’d headed straight to bed. 

“Hey, Shawnie-boy!” Chet Hunter’s gravelly accent boomed through the stripped down apartment. “Happy birthday my little man. You and Teach are probably out doing something awesome for your birthday. Bet you thought I forgot. But I got the best present for you, Shawnie. I found her! Yep, I found your momma and I’m bringing her home.” In a softer tone, he urged, “C’mon Virna, say something.”

Then a woman’s voice, shy and halting but warm came on, “Happy birthday, sweetie. I’m sorry. We’ll make it up to you somehow.” 

Then Chet was back, “We’re somewhere in Alabama right now so it should only take us a couple days to get home, if the truck don’t break down. We’ll see you soon, son.” Click. The machine’s voice announced “ _no more messages_ ” and then the only sound was of the coffee maker brewing. 

Jon’s eyes were locked onto Shawn’s from across the living room, where the young man stood leaning against the bedroom door frame, his hands in his pajama pants’ pockets. He’d been there since the words “You and Teach,” and he’d stayed rooted to the spot, and Jonathan’s gaze had stayed rooted to his face, unable to look away. The teen’s expression was unreadable for most of the message, then like clouds flickering over a sunny field, Jon watched the storm roll in. He saw Shawn’s eyes well up with tears, and then his expression close and his face become hard, his brow furrowing in anger or pain or both. He forced out an indignant snort and started to turn away. Like lightning, and before Jon could call to him, his hand shot out and up and his fist connected with the door frame. He finished turning, the door slammed behind him, and all was quiet again. The coffee had finished brewing. Jon’s frustration finally exploded. 

“FUCK!” he yelled as his own fist came down on the kitchen counter, making the coffee mugs and spoons Eli had gotten out jump. Jonathan stood very still for the moment, breathing hard and trying to get his emotions in check. He had the urge to snatch up his answering machine and beat it to smithereens against the kitchen counter, but then he had the thought that he’d rather beat Chet Hunter in the head with it. That would be more fitting. He felt as if he was on the edge of sanity, and rarely could he remember being this angry. How dare...how dare he…

“You don’t want to hurt your hand too bad,” Eli’s voice, ever the voice of reason, came softly into Jonathan’s awareness. “You’re gonna need that today.” He’d almost forgotten his friend was there. Jon’s eyes closed and he inhaled to his lungs’ full capacity and then lingered on the exhale before opening them. He blinked and looked at Eli, letting the sight of his lifelong best friend center him. He nodded in agreement. 

“Thanks,” he said, referring to more than just the advice, and began walking across the living room. He realized his hand was going to bruise when he gently knocked twice on his bedroom door and the vibrations hurt. 

“Shawn,” he said, at a normal volume. No answer. He called again, only slightly louder. He had no idea what he was going to say, but he was the only one who could try to say anything.

“Go away,” the flat, toneless voice of the teen replied. It sounded close, as if Shawn was slumped against the other side of the door. 

“Want to talk about it?” Jon asked anyway.

“No.” 

“What about...” Jon trailed off. He’d been about to ask what about the move, he’d kind of have to get into his room to be able to move stuff, but then he began to wonder where this development left them now. It was too late, really, to not go forward with it. 

“No.” Shawn said again. “Really. Jon, just please leave me alone right now. Please.” 

“I’m not sure I want to do that, man.” The concern for the boy bled through his voice; was alone the best idea for someone going through this? Shawn picked up on it through the door.

“Really, I’ll be okay. Just. Please. Leave me alone for now. I need to think.” Jon weighed his options. He could completely disrespect Shawn and what he was asking, or he could take the chance and trust him. They’d built up a strong rapport over the past few months, but…

“I need to get going with the move,” he said to the door. “Can you promise me you’ll be here when we get back?” 

There was a long pause, but then, “Yeah. I promise,” Shawn said. Jon studied the wood grain of the door a bit longer, then turned on his heel and headed to the bathroom to grab up the razors and anything else sharp he could think of, including the box of utensils and knives from the kitchen. He would make sure they made it out of the apartment first. There was no sense in not being practical. 

He noticed Eli staring at him as he began moving about.

“Well, let’s get going,” Jon said, “Daylight’s wasting. You got the keys to the van?” 


	8. Chapter 8

It felt good to be active, to use his muscles and have an excuse to stay busy. As they loaded boxes and furniture out of the apartment, Jon would glance at his bedroom door, wishing there was more he could do. It seemed callous to go about his plans with Shawn in this state, but he knew he was essentially powerless. He paused before locking the front door before they took the first trip, wanting to call out, wanting to leave the teen be.

“We’ll be back soon,” he ended up announcing, trying to sound as normal as he could, and shut the door. He could only hope he could trust Shawn to be there when he got back. Jon was quiet as Eli drove the van to the duplex on the outskirts of the city, his new home. He tried to picture what he would do in Shawn’s shoes, and that made him more nervous, because all he could picture was an empty apartment when they got back. 

“Nice place,” Eli tried to make conversation when he pulled up. “You in suburbia, huh? Never thought I’d see it,” he teased his friend. Jonathan had to crack a half smile. 

“Yeah, me neither,” he agreed. The apartment was the whole lower floor of a building, had off street parking, and even a small yard in the back. Jon had grown up in the suburbs, at least until he started getting himself into trouble, but it hadn’t been quite as nice of an area as this. He felt as if he was both going back in time and moving forward by relocating here. He’d hoped it would be a healthy transition for Shawn as well, but now…He opened the van’s back door and started hauling stuff so he didn’t have to think as much. 

Eli kept up very minimal small talk, knowing from years of friendship how much his buddy needed to be distracted but not too much, until they were on the way back to the old place. He was ready when the words finally started pouring out. 

“You know, I was going to file for custody soon cause it’s been six months. I talked to a lawyer,” Jon said. 

“You still can,” Eli replied. Jon shook his head. 

“And make the kid choose? That’s his dad, that’s his mom. Hell, I’ve never even met her,” he noted in realization. 

“You never know,” Eli said cryptically. “What are you going to do with the extra space and the room?” 

“I guess I could foster a kid,” Jon said, and Eli heard the misery in his friend’s voice that his friend wasn’t even aware of. “That’s basically what I’ve been doing right? Or it could be a guest room.” His voice trailed off. 

“I’m sorry, man,” Eli said. “I know you did this for Shawn. And now this. It’s not fair. You could give him such a better life.” He spoke the words that he knew Jon was hesitating to. 

“But is it better if he’s not with his parents? If they’d never come back for him? What that would do to him? I can buy him more than they can maybe, but I’m not his dad.” 

“Seems to me they’ve done quite a bit of damage already,” Eli stated baldly, with some anger. He was not fond of watching anyone get mistreated, and though he’d only been a teacher for not quite a year, he was protective of his students. He saw how it had been easy for his friend to get attached to this lost boy. Jon was thankful he had somebody that understood. Maybe it would make the hole that he could feel already opening in his chest easier to bear. 

Upon returning to the old apartment, Jon tried not to be too obvious that he was rushing up the stairs. 

“He’ll be in there,” Eli said softly, reassuringly, as Jon started to unlock the door. He was right. As Jon walked in, he saw that his bedroom door was open, and he approached it cautiously. Shawn was wrapped up in a blanket in the middle of Jon’s bed, a tattered notebook open with a pen flying over the page. The answering machine had been moved into the room and sat close to the teen in the pile of sheets, as if he’d been listening to the message over and over. Shawn looked up when Jon stepped a careful foot in the doorway, and the older man had to stop himself from going to him and holding him. His eyes were red and swollen; he’d obviously been crying, and pretty hard, but a small smile appeared on his face to greet Jon with. 

“Hey,” Jon said.

“Hey,” Shawn replied. He tossed the blanket off of himself and over the notebook and answering machine, as if willing both away. “Sorry I didn’t help with the first load,” he said. “Oh, and your friend Ryan called. He can’t make it.”

“I figured,” Jon said. Then, as Shawn got out of bed and picked up the closest box, “You don’t have to help, you know.” The kid looked levelly at his teacher, still holding the box. 

“Yeah I do,” Shawn replied. “You’ve done a lot for me, Jon. A lot. This is the least I can do.” Jonathan nodded gently, not sure he could trust himself to speak. Tomorrow, if the truck didn’t break down, he was going to have to give him back. He turned quickly and grabbed the lamp off of the bedside table and shoved it into a waiting box, trying his damnedest not to think. He listened to Eli and Shawn greet each other with a good morning as if the earlier scene hadn’t happened as the teen went out to the living area. 

Turned out that Shawn was stronger than he looked, or he was trying to throw himself into the task at hand as hard as Jon was to minimize mental activity, or both. But he was right there while moving the furniture, flicking the hair out of his eyes and sincerely eager and able to help. Jon may have noticed he worked like he was haunted if he hadn’t been doing the same thing himself. Eli had all he could do to keep up between the two of them. By the time they got everything moved, they were sweating in the warm spring afternoon. 

Jon went to the fridge at the new place and took out the beer he’d made sure to chill the day before. That had seemed so long ago now. Handing one to Eli, who’d plopped himself on the couch, he anticipated Shawn’s remark before it came out.

“Hey, where’s mine?” with a smirk. Jon just smirked back and passed him a root beer, a Barq’s like he knew he liked. Shawn made a mockingly disappointed face before taking a grateful sip. 

“Good game, guys, thank you,” Jonathan told them both. He paused for a second to appreciate the fact that they were done. Though he didn’t own that much stuff, moving was never fun. 

“No problem, and congrats again,” Eli said. Jon nodded his thanks, his mouth full of beautifully cold hops. Eli finished his beer quickly and took his leave, as if he didn’t want to linger, hugging Jon and shaking Shawn’s hand in parting. Then the two were alone, and the silence immediately threatened. 

“This is a really nice place,” Shawn said before it could grow. “I’d almost feel like Cory, living in a neighborhood like this. It almost would have been nice.” He stood at the bay window in the living room, looking out at the neat row of houses and apartment buildings across the street. He’d seen the place before, Jon being unwilling to sign the lease until Shawn approved of it, but his tone now was wistful. There’d been the sense all along of uncertainty, to be sure, but it had not been crushing like it was now. They each silently acknowledged that they’d both thought Shawn was going to live here too. 

“Can I show you something?” Jon asked now, setting down his empty beer bottle on the coffee table. Shawn followed him down the short hallway off the kitchen to a door, closed thus far throughout the day. 

“Yeah, I know,” Shawn said soberly, “This was going to be my room.” Not wholly sure why he was doing this, but needing to do it at the same time, Jon told him to open the door. It was probably going to make it harder, but he hadn’t done all this for nothing, damn it. Shawn hesitated, almost seeming like he wouldn’t, the air of what’s the point hanging around him, but he reached for the doorknob. 

The last time he’d been at the apartment a week ago, this room had been empty, hardwood floors matching the rest of the place and a large bright, bare window across from the doorway. Now as he looked around, he took in the full size bed, made up with dark green sheets that matched the curtains and a comforter with wolves on it. There was a real wooden bed frame, and a bookcase and desk flanking the window. The bookcase even had a few books on it already and there was a beige area rug in the center of the room. On a stand against the wall across from the foot of the bed sat a TV, remote ready to use sitting on top of it and a VCR underneath. Above the desk hung a poster of a 1968 Camaro, candy apple red against a black and silver background. 

Shawn was silent for a very long moment, and Jon was scared to speak first. He’d set this all up while Shawn had been at school on his birthday, begging a personal day from Mr. Feeny, and having to dodge the questions of where he’d been. His goal was to make the young man feel welcomed in the new apartment, to give him a place of his own, to give him the world if he could. But what if he was now just dangling a prize he couldn’t have in front of him?

“Thanks,” Shawn said, his voice suspiciously rough. “Thanks for trying, Jon. This is pretty awesome.” He didn’t make a move to go any further into the room, like he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, claim it. 

“It’s yours,” Jon told him. “It’s yours no matter what.” He knew he could never bring another kid into his home and care about him as much as he cared about Shawn, no matter what he’d mentioned to Eli. He’d gotten this apartment for the boy; he’d started planning the rest of his life, or the next few years of it anyway, around this responsibility he’d never meant to take on, but now couldn’t imagine not. Over the last six months, Shawn had worked his way into Jonathan’s heart in a way he’d never been able to predict. He knew he’d do anything for him, and that included watching him leave the second his parents came for him. But he would never totally be able to let him go. 

“No matter what you decide to do,” he drove the point home, reaching out and resting a hand on Shawn’s shoulder. “This is here for you, and so am I.” Shawn twisted around to look at him finally, his latest growth spurt almost bringing him eye level to Jon while standing. The teen cocked his head and studied Jon’s face intently, both silent, and Jonathan watched him understand what the older man couldn’t say outright. “You don’t have to go back. You don’t have to live in a trailer. This is real, it will never leave you. Like they did. And neither will I.” Shawn squinted his eyes and scrunched his nose in reply. 

“Little too nice for a trailer park kid, don’t you think?” and he slipped away from Jonathan’s hand and away from the room. 

That night Shawn insisted on sleeping on the couch and not using his new room and bed even once, and when Jon woke up it was to find him gone from the apartment. The teacher cursed himself for not seeing this coming. 


	9. Chapter 9

Jon spent the first day in his new apartment hardly there. He went through a half of tank of gas in the Harley, riding around looking for Shawn, checking and rechecking places. He had hoped it would be easy and he would have just gone to the Matthews to hang out with his best friend, but Cory hadn’t seen him. He even checked his own tree house to make sure Shawn wasn’t hiding there without his friend knowing. It seemed as if Cory had been through plenty of similar situations with him in the past. Alan and Amy promised to call if they saw the kid, and they seemed worried about him too. Jon knew they cared about him as well. 

He wasn’t at Chubbie’s, he wasn’t in the park, he wasn’t at the comic or video game stores Cory tipped him off on. Jon knew Shawn had pocket money and could have possibly taken a bus somewhere. Most of his stuff was gone from the apartment, which worried Jon, but how was he to know Shawn wasn’t just back with his parents already? He went to the Pink Flamingo Trailer Park with this thought in mind, but not even knowing which lot would be the Hunters’.

As he puttered through the place, he tried not to judge, but even as trailer parks go, this one was pretty run down. None of the units looked like they were in good shape, and the only consistent attempt at yard care was that there was a flamingo lawn ornament stuck in every lot, sometimes more than one. Jon could feel eyes on him and more specifically, his motorcycle, as he rode through and he felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle. Shawn lived here? This was his home? 

Not wanting to say he hadn’t given it his best shot, he pulled over at an orange trailer to talk to the middle aged man that was lurking outside of it, openly staring at him as he’d ridden by twice. The heavily bearded guy was at least six foot two, and Jon wasn’t sure he could take him, but he hoped it was just paranoia that made him think that he was in a world where he had to think like that. 

“Morning,” he called, and got no reply as he pulled the bike to the side, other than a more focused stare. He decided he wouldn’t dismount and would in fact keep his hand hovering over the throttle. He did remove his helmet so the man could see him.

“I was wondering if you could tell me if you’d seen someone around here,” he said, his hopes not high.

“You a cop?” the man asked flatly, his arms folded across his chest, making him look like the bodyguard of the trailer park. For all Jon knew, he was. 

“No,” he told him, “I’m an English teacher, and I’m worried about one of my students. Shawn Hunter. He’s been staying with me, and I wondered if he’d come back here.” 

“Hunter?” the guy intoned. “Haven’t seen them around in awhile. At least that part of the family. Hey Eddie!” he called, and a boy just slightly older than Shawn stuck his head out of the door. Jon looked at him and saw everything he’d been as a teenager: leather jacket, wary look, eyes hardened to the world. 

“You seen that brother of yours around lately?” the man asked the teen. 

“Brother?” the kid called Eddie scoffed. “You mean that traitor? Nah, I think he got smart and got gone for good. He thinks he’s better than us, hanging out with townie kids. I ain’t seen him.” 

“Yeah, we hain’t seen the Hunters round here for awhile, ever since Chet’s old lady took off and he followed her,” the older man agreed. Jon nodded, his head full of questions he knew he wouldn’t be able to get answers to. “If you see ‘em, let ‘em know their lot’s waiting for them. We ain’t filled it yet, with them being family and all.” 

“Will do,” Jon said, replacing his helmet and getting ready to ride away. “Thanks.” 

“And you better not be a cop or you’ll regret coming round here,” the guy called after him. Jon sent him a wave that he hoped came across as friendly and proceeded to get the hell out of there. So Shawn apparently had family at the trailer park, that seemed at least somewhat protective of their own. But yet Chet hadn’t left his son with them. He had picked someone he barely knew. That could not mean anything positive about the environment that Shawn was supposed to be going back to. Jon thought of the bedroom he’d made for him, and headed back towards the apartment. Maybe the kid had decided to return on his own. 

Though there was no sign of the boy when he got back, the phone rang as soon as Jonathan had sat down on the couch in defeat. 

“Hello, Mr. Turner? This is the Chesterbrook Police Station, and we have a Shawn Hunter here that says he knows you.” Jon wearily climbed back on the bike. When he walked into the station, Shawn was sitting in a chair with an officer close by, looking out at the world with defiance and annoyance. 

“He told us he was homeless but he finally mentioned your name,” the officer, a younger, short man said in greeting. “We found him loitering in the mall at the electronics store. Looks rather suspicious on a Sunday morning.” 

“I have money,” Shawn retorted. “You don’t know that I was doing anything.” 

“The CD’s that were in your pockets say otherwise, boy,” the officer said. “You’re lucky your friend here came to get you.” Shawn just looked away moodily. Jon sighed, gathering his patience as he often had to do with the teen, but had not had to for awhile. It had been nice. The officer held out a clipboard with paperwork for Jonathan to fill out and sign, then he left the man and the boy alone. Jon faced Shawn where he sat, refusing to look up. If this is the behavior that he was getting into with just the threat of his parents coming back, where was he headed ultimately? Jon had hoped he was past this. 

“Why are you doing this? Why are you sabotaging yourself?” he asked him plainly, trying not to let the annoyance he felt color his tone too much, but failing. 

“Just give up on me, okay?” Shawn ran his hand through his hair, still not meeting Jon’s eyes.“You don’t need to deal with me, I’m not your problem anymore. You’ve done enough and I really appreciate it but it’s time for me to go back to who I am.” Jon decided to refrain from mentioning that he was the one Shawn had requested come to the station. 

“What does that mean?” he asked him. Shawn finally glanced up. He sighed this time.

“I’m a trailer park kid, that’s all I’ll ever be. I don’t deserve a fancy place in the suburbs, and real food cooked every night, and getting good grades all the time. That’s not me. I mean, look at you. I’ve ruined your life. I know you moved for me, and you can’t date anymore, and you worry about me all the time. And now you’ve got a place you don’t need because of me. I think I’ve fucked up enough for you.” 

“Shawn, you know you haven’t fucked up anything. You’re just playing the pity card, and you know what? I’m sick of it.” Jon stood with his hands on his hips, not sure what to say anymore to get through. Neither of them noticed two people enter the police station and hover at the door. There was some slight hustle going on around them but on a Sunday afternoon there was not a lot of activity so they were mostly in their own world. Their words were loud enough to be heard by the newcomers, unbeknownst to Jon and Shawn. 

“Good. Be sick of it. Be sick of me,” was Shawn’s hard response. “I’ll never be the kid you’ve been trying to make me into. I mean, look at my parents. I can’t rise above that.” Jonathan clenched his teeth for a moment, still wanting to shake the boy. 

“Yes you can. You have been. You do deserve better and I wish you’d let yourself see it but I can’t force you. I’m not your dad.” He had to give up; he knew it. He was beating a dead horse. Maybe all his words over time had sunk into Shawn’s brain somehow and were making even the slightest difference. Jon had to believe that. But he had to relinquish control, or the attempt at it, before he drove himself completely crazy. The contemplative silence between them stretched on, and out of the corner of Jonathan’s eye he saw two people starting to approach them but he ignored them in order to hear what Shawn was starting to say. 

Out of Shawn’s mouth quietly came, “I kinda wish you were. But you’re better than a dad. You’ve been my friend. Thank you.” Jon felt the sting in the back of his eyes and he opened his arms, hoping Shawn would accept. The teen stood up and let himself be wrapped in a real hug one more time. 

“I love you,” Jon whispered in Shawn’s ear, and he felt the young man hold on tighter in response. He could sense the two people had gotten very close now, and instinctively knew who they were, though the man of the couple was being uncharacteristically silent. They must have heard some of the conversation, which he figured must be the reason for the hesitancy. Good, Jon thought, let them see what caring about their son should look like. 

“I knew I left him in good hands,” Chet said quietly as Jon and Shawn began to break apart, Jon giving him one good final squeeze, partly to keep himself from crying and partly to borrow strength from the boy for preparing to deal with the elder Hunter. As Shawn let go he turned to his parents, his dad in the forefront, and a redheaded thin woman behind him that must be his mother. 

“Hey guys,” he greeted them, with half a smile and without enthusiasm for not seeing or talking to them for months, and slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. Chet, oblivious or willfully ignorant, leaned into his son and landed some playful mock punches to the gut. 

“Hey there, buddy,” sounding more like himself now. “It’s great to see you. Someone’s grown while we were gone.”

“Yeah well, it’s been six months,” Shawn returned with a wider smile, seeming forced. 

“Sounds like it’s been a good time for you, though, from what I’ve heard.” Shawn nodded, looking unsure what to say. 

“He’s done well,” Jon stepped in. “Screw him up and make him regress and I will hunt you down,” he didn’t add. Chet turned to him now, growing sober again. 

“Teach, I can’t thank you enough for what you done for my boy. He looks good,” he said sincerely. He looks miserable, Jon thought, how can you not see what you’ve done, but he just nodded. Shawn had shrunken back into the shadows and taken the chair that was against the wall again, removing himself as much as he could from the conversation between the adults but Jon knew he was taking every bit in. 

“I’ll be getting you some money as soon as I can,” Chet told Jon, “Just gotta get settled in again, find some work and all that and I’ll take care of you.” Jon fought the eye roll he could feel starting. It was becoming harder and harder to give this man any respect at all, and he knew that wasn’t fair to Shawn. For Shawn’s sake, he wouldn’t make a scene. 

“Here, meet my wife, Virna,” Chet said, turning back to the woman and drawing her forward. She wore faded jeans and a weathered flowered blouse, and her face seemed as worn as her clothes, but it lit up when she smiled. “Virna, this is Jonathan...” Chet faltered on his last name. 

“Turner,” Jon supplied, stepping forward and reaching to shake her hand. “I’m Shawn’s English teacher.” He had hopes that somehow his mother had more substance. She at least seemed like she was feeling some proper guilt.

“Thank you for looking after him,” she said seriously, her brow permanently creased. “He really seems to like you.”

“I like him, too. He’s a great kid,” Jon said honestly, glancing at Shawn, making sure he was paying attention. “It’s been a pleasure having him hang out with me. If you ever need...” To run away and leave your child again, he wanted to say but stopped himself, “...a place for him to stay again or anything, just let me know. He’ll always have a place with me.” Virna’s eyes nearly welled up. 

“Thank you so much for that,” she said. “You’re a wonderful man.” Jon felt her studying him, suddenly less like a mother evaluating a man her child has been spending a lot of time with and more like a woman checking out a man. He took a step away from her and turned towards Chet again, not thrilled with communicating with either option. It seemed like their time here was done, however. 

“C’mon, Shawnie,” Chet said now, “Trailer’s out front, you’ll be home in just a minute. I’ll need your help parking her back in the lot.” Shawn got up wordlessly, hoisted his backpack up onto his shoulder, and shoved his hands in his front pockets this time. He turned to follow his parents out of the station but not without a look back at Jonathan.

“Bye,” he said simply, his eyes blank. “See you in school.” Then he walked away. There were no other words left to say, Jonathan supposed, but he felt his heart breaking just the same. The boisterous young man that normally strutted around, that was able to exude confidence even if it was a put on, now slouched out of the door, trying to make himself smaller with every step. Just like that, he was gone. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know if I should issue a little warning with this chapter, the emotional roughness kind of continues with this one. For my faithful readers that I am blessed to have, I'm sending you all a hug along with this update.  
> I love these characters dearly myself, and I promise it will eventually get better for them.

The apartment was way too quiet. Shawn had never even lived there, so Jonathan hadn’t thought that his presence would be as sorely missed as it might have been, and he could just start fresh. But Shawn was here, whether it made sense or not. Jon wished he could see him again on the couch doing his homework and there were a few times he swore he could hear the TV in Shawn’s room, the TV that had never been turned on. He wasn’t proud; he slept those first couple of nights in the bed in the room he’d set up for the teen. Jon was used to living alone, and he used to love it. But now there was a tinge of loneliness that he hated. 

The day after he had to give him back, Shawn was not in school. Jon tried to reason it out, that the kid had been through a lot very recently and deserved a day. But this was not a good beginning for being back home and Jon just missed him. At lunch time, he noticed Mr. Matthews looking lost at his locker without his friend. 

“You think he’s doing okay?” the teacher approached Cory, who nodded hesitantly. 

“He’s like a stray dog, he’s pretty tough,” the curly haired boy answered. “At least he tries to be,” he added after a short pause. Jonathan gave a lopsided smile.

“Do me a favor, keep an eye on him. Let me know how things are going every once in a while?”

Cory agreed, then asked, “Can I say something that you promise you won’t tell him?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Jon replied. 

“I was kind of hoping his parents wouldn’t come back,” the boy confessed, looking guilty. “I know he wanted them to, but...”

“I get it,” the older man reassured him. Miss Lawrence was walking up now and Jonathan knew she’d want to take her boyfriend away for lunch, so he thanked Cory and retreated. He was glad that Shawn had a friend like Cory; he could tell he truly cared about him and that barring catastrophe, the two would be joined for life. 

  
  


Shawn was back at school the next day, Jon gladly noted, but he acted aloof, as if he and his English teacher had never seen each other outside of class. He guessed that was the way it had to be, but he had hoped they’d built more of a bond than that. He reminded himself to give Shawn time to adjust yet again to his new situation. He couldn't expect an adult to just go about their life with so many quick changes in it and act perfectly normal, and Shawn was just a kid. He did study him closely, however, hiding it as best he could. The boy had gotten some of his swagger back, slipping back into his persona out of necessity. But he didn’t seem as well rested as he should be, and Jon saw the glaze come over his eyes in class again when he was lecturing. If his grades started slipping, no matter how annoying it was, he vowed he would bring both Chet and Virna in for a talk and demand answers. 

At the end of the day on Friday, while getting ready to gather that week’s test papers and materials, Jonathan found a letter tucked under the corner of the calendar on his desk. It was addressed simply to “Jon” and he could tell just from those three letters that it was in Shawn’s handwriting. The students were all gone for the weekend; the kid must have sneaked back in and left it after his last class. Jon sat down and opened the envelope. 

_Hey Jon-_

_You know why I feel homeless? It’s because I don’t feel like I belong anywhere. Even before my mom left and all this happened, it was like there was no place I could just be me, or even try to figure out who that is. If I didn’t have Cory I don’t know what I’d do. He’s the only person in my life that just lets me be whatever I want. I know you want the best for me, but you try to shape me into this upstanding young man that I’m not sure I want to be. And my parents, my dad especially, would be just fine with it if I quit school in another year and start working. Says I’ll get further that way. My mom, she just seems lost. They’re still fighting like they were before she left. They try to hide it but I can tell. I’ve heard the word divorce more than a few times already. Why come back together if they weren’t okay? My dad could have just come back and he and I could have gotten a place. That seems like the way things are going to go anyway. Just don’t know how he’ll afford it since he still doesn’t have a job. I think he’s trying to find one, but no luck yet. That’s probably why he wants me working as soon as possible. Kind of wish I could quit school now to be able to help out. Maybe if I could bring some money in too, they wouldn’t fight about it so much and things would be easier. At least he’s not drinking like he used to. For now anyway. It is nice having some of my stuff back, some of my old clothes and stuff, the ones that still fit anyway, and being back in my room. My bed is just a mattress on the floor, nothing like what you got for me. I feel bad. You shouldn’t have done all that. You knew I was going to leave soon, right? I couldn’t be domesticated like that. Just crashing at your old place was one thing, it wasn’t scary. But then the stakes got higher. Maybe it’s best my mom and dad came back when they did. Anyway, I wanted to let you know I’m fine and you can stop worrying about me, because I know you do. I don’t know why. I’ll be fine. It’s what I do. Thanks again for everything._

_Shawn_

Jonathan jumped at the knock at his classroom door frame, looking up from where he was holding his head in his hands, fingers wound into his hair. George Feeny stood there, with a worried and questioning look on his face. Jon had no idea how long he’d been sitting at his desk, staring at Shawn’s words, letting them sink into his soul. It’s not like he had to be home by a certain time anymore. 

“Getting a jump on grading?” George asked, though Jon knew he knew that’s not what he was doing. “That can wait a bit longer, don’t you think? It’s the weekend, let’s go get a drink, maybe some appetizers.” Jonathan thought to decline, didn’t the principal want to get home? But then he remembered that George lived alone and maybe he got lonely sometimes too. 

They rode in the older man’s car to a small, classy place he knew of one town over, whose waitresses greeted him by name when the teachers walked in. Jonathan realized how little he knew of his superior’s life.

“Good evening Jeanette,” George greeted the pretty brunette warmly. “Yes, I’ll take my usual. I’d like you to meet my friend and colleague, Jonathan Turner.” Jon nodded at the lady, and ordered a seven/seven. He deserved something a little more than beer this week. He barely noticed the wide smile she flashed him as she left to get their drinks. Thus far, he and George had been making small talk about work of course, and he had filled him in on his plans for his rose bushes this year. But when Jeanette came back with their order, including a plate of loaded fries for good measure, the elder man got to the heart of things.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, after savoring his third sip of Merlot. Jon looked across the table, swirling his glass. The restaurant was just quiet enough he could hear the ice cubes clink together if he concentrated. 

“I’m holding,” he said noncommittally. “Is it that obvious that it bothers me?” He’d been trying to act as normal as possible. After all, his role had been fulfilled; he had given the kid a place to stay until his parents came back for him. That’s all it was ever supposed to be, and that had been accomplished. It was only his own fault if he couldn't walk away as cleanly as the situation called for. 

“Probably only to a practiced eye,” George replied. 

“I don’t need to have some big talk about it,” Jon reassured him. “It’s just a little weird not having him around anymore.” George nodded, and took another sip of wine. 

“The young Hunter worked his way into your life in a way that I’m guessing most people haven’t,” the older man remarked. “It’s natural to miss him.” Jon sighed lightly, both slightly irritated and at the same time thankful that George was as perceptive as he was. 

“I didn’t think things would go as far as they did when I signed up for this.”

“Life has that way. You now know that there was more than one reason I was telling you to be careful.” Jon nodded, then attempted to brighten.

“I mean, I should be happy, right?” he asked. “I get my life back. I can go out again, I can be the wild and free bachelor that I was before all this. Well maybe not too wild,” he amended with a small laugh under George’s smirking look. He took a healthy sip of his drink and his demeanor changed again. He did need to talk about it.

“Damn it, why is it so hard?” he asked George, himself, his glass of whiskey. “Why does it hurt so much?” 

“Because you learned how strongly you can care about someone besides yourself,” George answered sagely, his steady voice helping to immediately ground Jonathan. “You’re learning about yourself too. Try not to take it as a loss, but more as a lesson, and a good one.”

“But what about him?” The memory of watching Shawn walk away, shrinking into himself, as well as the letter that was currently in Jon’s pocket, would haunt him for a long time. 

“Shawn will be alright,” George assured him. “He’s a survivor. Kids are tougher than they seem and none of us grow up without some trauma.” Jon finished his drink, having to acknowledge that this was true.

“And now he’s got you in a way he didn’t before,” the older man continued. “Even if he’s pulled away for now, he knows you’re there. And even if he never comes back,” - at this Jonathan couldn’t keep a grimace and a frown off of his face- “you have been an incredibly positive influence in his life that he will always carry with him. Don’t forget that and don’t discredit it.”

They ordered another round of drinks and attacked the fries now that they had cooled and Jon even found it in himself to smile honestly at the waitress. Moving on from Jon’s current turmoil, the two teachers began sharing life stories, deepening a bond that may not have taken root if it weren’t for Shawn Hunter.

  
  


The days and the nights got easier, Jon starting to settle back into his previous routine. Life went on, and he tried not to liken it to getting over a breakup. He also realized that he’d never let himself get as deeply invested in a relationship with a woman that it was this hard to get over her. Maybe it was time that changed, he thought, and he slowly started to try to reclaim that part of his life.

Meanwhile he watched Shawn, from the distance that the boy would let him, and he tried to think optimistically. His grades were starting to slip a little, but nothing too bad yet, and Jonathan just prayed he wouldn’t backslide too much. The kid seemed like he was at least still mostly trying in his class anyway. The English teacher found strength in remembering George Feeny’s words more than once, and it did seem as if Shawn was doing slightly better than he had been almost a year ago now. As time passed, talking to each other, at least in class, became a bit more natural again, and Jonathan had hopes that they were on their way to a new normal where he could be the friend Shawn had claimed he was. 

Then, abruptly, as it tends to do, Jonathan’s life changed drastically late one Wednesday afternoon as he rode his bike home from work. He’d confronted Shawn earlier that day about this “center” that the boy had gotten involved in, that sounded more like a cult. He’d actually opened up to Jonathan a little, and they had a heart to heart talk that nevertheless ended in the young man shutting him out when Jon thoroughly condemned the establishment. He’d gripped Shawn’s shoulders, noticing how they’d filled out in only a few months, and forced the teen to maintain eye contact with him. 

“The Shawn Hunter I know is one of the most unique individuals I’ve ever met. And if you let this place,” he couldn't help raising his voice, still being on school grounds be damned, “take away who you really are, Shawn, then you made the worst judgment you could make.”

The young man looked back at him, pain welling up in those deep blue eyes, and confessed, “I don’t know who I am, Jon,” before slipping by him and escaping, effectively breaking Jonathan’s heart all over again in a way that only Shawn could do. 

His mind on the boy and what else he perhaps could’ve or should’ve said, or what he could do for him from where he was, Jon cursed his unawareness as he got caught in a sudden downpour. He was only two miles from home, and reasoned that he could make it if he was careful. But even as he started slowing the motorcycle, he saw the rainbow pattern on the wet road of the oil slick the water had brought to the surface of the pavement too late. 

He told himself, much later, that he would have been able to make it through that with minimal damage, even though he’d already begun sliding sideways, if he hadn’t been at an intersection and the driver of the minivan hadn’t completed the job. Jon saw the headlights coming straight for him and knew he wouldn’t be able to correct in time. He barely felt the impact before he was unconscious and mercifully knew no more. 


	11. Chapter 11

Beep...beep...beep…

Muttering in low voices. 

The sensation of his body being shifted with no control whatsoever over what happened to him. 

Periods of complete unawareness.

He had no sense of time, and he could not open his eyes to see or his mouth to ask what was going on. He’d never felt so helpless but through the haze of confusion, he suddenly heard a voice very familiar to him: Shawn’s, and he was yelling. He also thought he heard the Matthews’ boy, and words started to form that he could understand. 

“This is a hug,” and then his name, “Turner took care of you, he loves you, and you love him. Is that real?” Then a silence save for the beeping of what he was now guessing was monitors that he was connected to. And Shawn’s voice was back, sounding alone now. He was the one to say his name this time. 

“Jon, how could you be in here?” he started. Jonathan didn’t catch every word that Shawn said, but he knew he was talking to him, and he tried desperately to surface enough to answer him, to let the boy know that he was in there, somewhere, even if he didn’t know where himself. If he’d been able to feel enough of his body through the pain meds, he would have been aware that his heart started beating faster, wishing that he could do more for Shawn right now. The boy still needed him after all, and no matter what there was no way he was letting him down. Jon felt a touch on his hand, and even through all the numbing agents he’d been dosed with, his skin knew it was a touch he’d felt before. It took every bit of concentration that he had to focus on the muscles of his arm, of his hand, and be able to move his fingers just slightly towards Shawn’s. 

Every bit that he fought the haze, the closer he got to the surface. He could remember sight, and being able to move his body at will, but it felt like the last time he had experienced those things had been months, if not years before whenever this was now. He didn’t know why he was in the hospital, having no recollection of the accident. For the most part, he worked on paying attention the most when he heard Shawn talking to him, though he couldn't tell if the teen was visiting him multiple times or he had just never left. Time had no meaning. 

“Jon, they say you’re not brain dead, so I’m going to figure you understand what I’m saying. I wish you’d wake up though, I miss you.”

“Hey, you’re going to regret not seeing that nurse! She was really cute!”

“I really hope you’re in there, man. I don’t know what I’ll do if you’re not.” 

“So my dad got a job, being a janitor. It’s not glamorous, but it’s money. I’m hoping he and my mom stop fighting so much now.” 

“It’s gorgeous outside, Jon. I wish we could take a ride on the bike. Damn, you’re probably never getting on one of those things again.”

“I got a B on my last history test! I’m still trying, man, it’s just really hard to study at home.” 

“Cor, do you really think he’s in there?” 

YES, Jon wanted to shout, I’m here and I hear you and I’m trying to come back to you. I miss you too and I guess this was a bike accident, huh? 

Jonathan started trying to fight off the overwhelming wave of blackness that engulfed him on a regular basis. He couldn't know it was the fresh dose of morphine that the doctors were keeping pumped into his veins on a strict schedule, he just knew it made him lose touch with the world and he felt uneasy being this powerless and blind. He was also getting curious about the scope of his injuries. He’d heard some of the medical professionals by now, and phrases like “broken femur”, “change the head bandages”, “punctured lung”, and “don’t know if he’ll regain use of that arm” stuck in his mind, at least until the next wave hit him. 

He started trying to exercise control over his body when he felt the most lucid; he knew he’d done it once with his fingers, he figured he must be able to do it again. Soon whenever he could feel Shawn’s hand in his, he was able to exert just slight pressure so it sort of felt like he was holding the boy’s hand back. He knew what he really needed was speech, though, and this took longer in coming. 

“You need to be okay, Jon. You need to come back to me. I still need you,” Shawn’s voice, jagged and raw, pierced Jon’s heart. In all the time they’d spent together, and everything Jonathan had watched the kid go through, he’d never heard him outright cry this baldly. He’d been practicing making sounds, but he still didn’t have control over his vocal cords. He was becoming frustrated and this agitation paired with Shawn’s pain drew a moan from his throat. Had he forgotten how to talk? Was his throat damaged to where he couldn't anymore? He refused to believe that, and kept on expelling what sound he could, which expressed itself as a low keening groan. But it sounded like Shawn had stopped crying, so maybe he was having some effect. Anything for that boy. Jon tried focusing on a word.

“Hahn. I Aaa-ake,” he ground out. “I ‘ere. I ‘ere. I aaa-ake.” 

“Jon?! Jon?!” Shawn was definitely no longer crying, and it seemed like he could hear Jonathan, though the man didn’t know if what he was trying to say - “Shawn. I’m awake. I’m here. I’m here. I’m awake” - was coming through correctly, but it was enough for Shawn to start yelling, “Hey! Hey, he’s awake!” Jon’s heart squeezed with gratitude to hear that voice happy again. 

There was the sense of many people in the room with him suddenly, and he could feel his lips being parted. Water had never felt so blessedly exquisite as it did trickling down his throat right now, soothing the unused chords.

“Don’t do that! We don’t know if he can swallow yet!” an authoritative voice commanded. 

“He’s been moving his hand every day. I’m sure he can swallow.” Jon would have laughed if he could have at the indignant protectiveness Shawn threw at the doctor. Wait, if he could move his hand and he could begin to talk…

It took a concentration that demanded he ignore all the voices coming at him and the hands that were poking at him, measuring vitals and who knew what else, but Jon found he was able to lift his eyelids enough to let the beginnings of the harsh hospital light in. When had his eyelids gotten so heavy? He was just thankful that he could still see and that colors, at least the light blue and beige of the room, seemed to be as vibrant as he remembered. 

“There you are, Jon. Welcome back,” said a warm male voice, but not the one Jon wanted. He tried to work up some saliva in his throat.

“Where’s Shawn?” His voice was still rough, weaker than a day old kitten, but at least he could form consonants. He forced his eyes open incrementally further and tested moving his eyeballs around. 

“I had to send everybody out before they got in the way. I would assume who you’re asking about is on the other side of the door,” the doctor said with a smile. “He’s been here more than anyone else.” 

Don’t tell me what I already know, just go get him, Jon wanted to say but knew he had to save his strength. 

“Let him in,” Jon said, his lips still barely moving, when it seemed like the white coat continued to just stand there. The doctor’s brow furrowed. 

“Don’t you want to talk about what condition you’re in? You were in a pretty bad motorcycle accident.” Jonathan did in fact want to know, very much. But he knew that Shawn was probably having to be forcefully restrained right now to be being kept out of the room.

“Later,” Jon told him, and moved his eyes decidedly to the back of the door, indicating there would be no more conversation until the boy that he could almost feel waiting there was inside. The doctor did not argue any further; after all, the fact that his patient had woken up was somewhat of a miracle. He was not going to be the one to deny him what he wanted, even if it was a teenage boy that was no relation to him. 

Shawn rushed into the room before the door was fully open, Cory right behind him. 

“Jon,” Shawn said simply, but there was so much joy, unmitigated joy, radiating from his tone and face that no other words were needed. He strode up to the bed and Jonathan knew he wanted to wrap him in a hug, but he stopped himself at the last moment. Jon was sure his injuries wouldn’t allow such things, probably for awhile. Shawn settled on slipping his hand into Jon’s, in its usual spot, and holding on for dear life. This time Jon was able to hold back a lot tighter as well as look up into Shawn’s face. Those soulful eyes were swimming behind tears but there was such a beatific smile on the young man’s face that Jonathan had to attempt one in turn. He was only able to slightly turn up the corners of his mouth, but it was a start.

“Mr. Turner!” Cory said, and even his voice was filled with breaking emotion. Jon could feel the doctor move closer as the Matthews boy took the seat next to the bed. Shawn remained standing, frozen as close as he could get to the bedside. 

“Only one person, please,” the doctor announced, in a last attempt. 

“Cory stays,” Jon declared. “And more water please.” Shawn immediately picked up the plastic cup on the side table and gently poured a few milliliters into Jon’s mouth. It was clear he was going nowhere. 

“Your mom said she gets dibs on the next one to come in and see you. She seems like a nice lady,” Shawn let him know. His mom had come out from California? Things must have been really bad, Jonathan concluded. 

“I’d like to talk about your injuries, but I can definitely leave you with some time...” the doctor said gently.

“No, tell me,” Jon said. Now that he was aware, and he knew Shawn was okay, he needed to know. He couldn't move his head or any other whole body part for that matter yet, but he could see from moving his eyeballs around that his right leg was in a full cast, and there was the fact that  _ he couldn't move his head or any other body part _ . It would drive him nuts unless he knew the full extent soon. 

“It can wait, really,” the doctor said, with a glance at the teenagers. Shawn was sharp, though.

“I already know all of it, and if you don’t tell him I will as soon as you leave,” the boy countered. Jon wished he could reprimand him for speaking like that to a professional, but only slightly. He was touched, if a little embarrassed, that Shawn was being so protective of him. He squeezed the boy’s hand as a substitute for words that would have to wait, or perhaps for things there were no words for. 

“You’re lucky to be alive, Jonathan Turner,” Dr. Echols began. As Jon listened to the laundry list of injuries, he understood why his mother had flown in and why Shawn had sounded so desperate at times. He also began to remember the accident. Fortunately his helmet had stayed on for most of it, but it had fallen off as the minivan came to a screeching halt. Hence the head bandages after the removal of the gravel from his scalp. That meant he would be bald at the moment, he thought. The broken femur he’d already heard mentioned, but the shattered ankle on the same leg was news. His right leg had taken the most impact and so had more damage. The other leg had escaped mostly unscathed, just covered in scrapes like most of his body, some of which had healed already. 

The doctor explained how they hadn’t been sure Jon’s left shoulder would stay in its socket, which was why his arm was braced as strictly as it was. Especially with the broken fingers on that hand and the sprained elbow Dr. Echols said the arm wouldn’t be much use to him anytime soon either way. His collarbone had gotten away with only a hairline fracture, and they’d been keeping the neck brace on him just to be on the safe side. Luckily, because it had still been early in the spring and so chilly enough that he’d been wearing his leather jacket, he hadn’t suffered any severe internal injuries, other than the punctured lung from the two broken ribs on his right side. 

They had been worried about brain activity, the doctor said quietly, again with a glance at the two younger people in the room, but Shawn and Cory were stoic. The scans they’d done had shown nothing to worry about, but he would send a psychiatrist in for an evaluation soon, and also just in case Jon needed to talk. Now that he was awake, he could be switched to a morphine pump that he could control, and Dr. Echols advised him to use it as liberally as he felt he needed. 

“How long was I out for?” Jon asked. 

“Just over two weeks,” came the answer. “It’s Friday, May 15th.” Jon’s eyes turned to the friends at his right, and if he was careful, he found he could shift his head to the side as well. 

“How much school have you boys missed?” he asked them. 

“Mr. Feeny approved most of it,” Cory grinned. 

“Don’t worry, I got my books with me,” Shawn said. “I knew if you woke up and I hadn’t been keeping up you’d kick my ass.” Jon managed a small laugh at the thought that he’d be able to do such a thing in his current state, and he worked on being able to smile wider so he could express his pride in Shawn, and his gratitude that the boy had been able to bring him back.


	12. Chapter 12

“I’m sure. Jon, just please let me do this for you.” Then he pulled the trump card. “You said that room would always be there for me. Well, I’m cashing in on it.” 

“I’m in no condition to be able to take care of you properly right now, Shawn.” 

“That’s the point, I want to be there to take care of you now. It’s not like I’m a little kid.”

“I never said you were, it’s just...”

A loaded silence when Jon trailed off.

“You took care of me. I want to be able to repay that.”

“This is a little bit different.” 

“I don’t care.” 

In the last few weeks, over several surgeries and the beginning of physical therapy, Jon had come a long way, but he still had a long way to go. He could breathe without a tube now, which he was thankful for, and he no longer had to wear the bandages on his head. When he used his good arm to raise his hand to his scalp he could feel just the start of fuzz growing back that would eventually be hair. He tried not to look in a mirror too much. His ankle had been reconstructed, and the doctors assured him that with enough therapy he would be able to walk again. But for now he was relegated to a wheelchair for most of the day. When he was able to use his left arm normally again, he could graduate to crutches. 

He’d been told he was lucky a hundred times, and he believed it wholeheartedly but now that they were telling him he could go home, he yearned to get out of the hospital and away from the doctors. They wanted someone there at home with him before they would release him, though, and while officially that would be his mother, Jon knew she didn’t want to stick around much longer. She had her life to get back to now that she knew her son would live.

Shawn was offering to step in, to move back in with him. Jonathan knew he wouldn’t be able to say no; he was not that strong, and isn’t this what he’d wanted since the boy had left? But he hoped Shawn knew what he was getting into. Jon would hire a nurse to come in once a day to be on the safe side. Besides, Christina was really cute, Shawn had been right about that. 

“What about your parents?” Jon asked. “Are they going to be okay with it if you just move out?” Shawn gave a half shrug, a bitter look falling over his face.

“With the way things are going, I doubt they’d notice, honestly. Dad’s going to lose his job any day, he’s been drinking more than he should. And there’s a lot of times that my mom’s not home. We don’t know where she goes, and Dad doesn’t bother looking for her anymore. Just opens another beer and goes on another bender.” Shawn was keeping his tone flat, but Jon could tell how much turmoil the boy was in. 

“I’m sorry, Shawn,” he said simply.

“I’m over it,” the teen lied. “But it would be nice to get away from it. And with you needing help right now, I just kinda figured...”

“Get your stuff packed as soon as you can, I’ll have the Matthews pick you up. Just make sure you tell your dad where you’re going. The last thing I need is a kidnapping charge,” Jon told him. And he watched Shawn’s eyes light up with hope. 

It was a good thing he’d ended up with a ground level apartment, he mused, trying to maneuver the wheelchair into his front door. His arm had damn well better heal quickly.

“Here, I got that,” Shawn stepped in, squeezing himself past Jon in his chair to open the door as far as it would go, and kicking the welcome mat out of the way so the wheels wouldn’t get caught on it. Jonathan couldn’t stop questioning what kind of life this was for a fifteen year old boy, but Shawn seemed so happy to be back that he couldn’t deny him if this was what he wanted. 

Jon finally got to hear the TV in the kid’s room for real, and watch him study for finals in what must be a more peaceful environment than his actual home. It was almost as if he’d never left, except, of course, for the fact that Jon could barely do anything for himself, and Shawn was suddenly growing into this responsible young man that defied all logic. In the course of two weeks, he’d learned how to do laundry, how to cook simple meals, and he didn’t shy away from picking up not just his room but the whole apartment. 

“If I’d known all I had to do was become an invalid to bring out this side of you, Shawn, I would have done it a long time ago,” Jonathan joked. The young man made a face at him, and continued to clear the dinner dishes. 

“It’s not like I haven’t known how to do all this, really,” Shawn said. “There were enough times I was on my own for a few days here and there, ever since I was twelve. I just never wanted to.” 

Jon spared him the worst of the care for him directly; it was Christina that helped him bathe, and changed his bandages, and made sure his medications were on schedule. Between Amy, Alan, Eli, and George, he never had to worry about how he was getting to doctor’s appointments or physical therapy. His mother had left after a week, claiming that the east coast air was destroying her lungs. She’d lived in Connecticut for most of her life, but she seemed to conveniently forget that. That was okay with Jon; they weren’t close anymore, if they’d ever been, and she seemed to treat Shawn as an oddity that was just passing through Jon’s life. The guys weren’t sorry to see her go so they could get back to their bachelor pad existence. 

Jon hated not being able to get up and move around like he’d been used to, to have to depend on other people, and he had to remind himself all the time that it wouldn’t be forever. He was determined to be able to take Shawn to a few fun places for the upcoming summer, and he swore that eventually he would get on his bike again. For now the machine was sitting in one of his buddies’ shops, not too horribly mangled and waiting on the day that Jonathan was able to have the repairs done. The mental and emotional strain of his injuries felt worse sometimes than the physical aspect, and he struggled to stay strong so Shawn would not see. He was still trying to be the solid male role model that he knew the teen needed, even when he could barely dress himself. 

“Would you stop doing that!” he would get reprimanded by Shawn when he overextended himself and then had to rest on the couch for the remainder of the day. But this gave him an excuse to yell at Shawn in turn to get his books and he would help him study. The boy would drag his feet of course but they would end up sitting together, Shawn leaning against him while Jon quizzed him on biology, history, and the rest of his subjects. Finals were in a week. 

“If you get at least a C on everything,” Jonathan promised the teen, “maybe I’ll get you something for your hard work.” Shawn rolled his eyes, but not before the older man saw a flash of intrigue cross his face.

“I don’t need a bribe dangled in front of me,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll do just as awful as I always do. I’m only studying this much to humor you, you know.” He shot Jon his roguish grin. 

The joke ended up being on him, however, when he passed all his classes, even pulling a C- minus in algebra. For all his bravado and ruse that he didn’t care, he couldn’t hide his pride when he came home and showed Jon his final report card. Of course Jonathan had already known, having been filled in by Mr. Feeny immediately upon the grades being given, but nothing could replace the shy way Shawn silently handed him the paper, shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. 

“Oh c’mon, it can’t be that bad,” Jon played along as he unfolded it and read. He looked back up to Shawn’s eyes dancing playfully and a grin breaking out on the teen’s face. 

“Shawn, I am so proud of you,” Jon said through the lump forming in his throat. “I always knew you could do this.” One of the boy’s shoulders raised and lowered.

“It’s just school,” Shawn said. “It’s not like it matters that much.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself. For one thing, it matters a lot. And for two, you did an amazing job, Shawn. This has been a hard year on you, and to come out of it with grades like this. You deserve more credit than you give yourself.” 

“You can’t prove it was the studying,” Shawn shot.

“No, of course not,” Jon replied, “I’m sure this was merely an unfortunate byproduct.” Jon rolled his chair over to the refrigerator and hung the report, having recently gained some slight use of his left hand. “That’s staying there,” he said, holding his arm out to block Shawn from taking it down. “And we’re getting pizza tonight. Invite Cory over if you want.” 

“You act like this is a big deal.”

“It is, and you know it is, if you’d quit being such a smart ass,” Jon returned, though he of course knew he wouldn’t have Shawn any other way. “These are the best grades you’ve ever pulled.”

“You know I couldn't have done it without you,” the boy said, and went in for a hug. Jon held him with his good arm while Shawn awkwardly bent down and over the man in the wheelchair, resulting in Jon’s head resting against his chest, rather opposite of what their hugs used to be. This was everything that Jon had hoped for when he’d taken Shawn under his wing, and although he could have wished the accident hadn’t happened, he was almost thankful for it because maybe Shawn wouldn’t have come back without it. The teen went to head into his room, no doubt thrilled to deeply bury his backpack and begin his summer. Jon heard the shriek and smiled to himself. 

“No way!” Shawn came out of his room again, clutching the box containing the new Nintendo 64 system, as well as the two games to start out with, Super Mario Bros and Mortal Kombat. His eyes were lit up like a freight train’s at night. 

“You’ll have to figure out how to hook it up,” Jon said apologetically, loving every second. “I couldn't get down on the floor to do it.” 

“Jon,” Shawn said, “This is like, the most expensive thing anybody’s ever gotten me.” Somehow Jonathan had thought so, which had made him want to do it all the more. 

“Well, you deserve it. Plus,” and here Jon became quieter, “You being here means a lot to me, Hunter. You’ve been doing so much for me. I couldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you.” They stared at each other for several moments, and Jon almost thought he saw Shawn tear up before the teen turned abruptly back towards his room, the gifts hugged tightly to his chest. 

In the month that Shawn had been back, Jon wondered slightly that they hadn’t heard from his mother or father. He felt strange not having any sort of communication with them; a teenager had just up and left home and his parents seemed to not feel the need to look in on him or contact him or his caretaker at all. Jon supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, the communication had been spotty at best last time. But at least then the arrangement had been with prior parental approval. This time it was more like Jon had taken Shawn away.

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Eli said. “If there was going to be any legal involvement, they would have had to pursue it right away.” 

“It’s not like they don’t know where he is,” Alan put in. “Though if that was my kid, I just couldn't fathom...” Mr. Matthews trailed off, obviously not able to think of one his children just disappearing from his life. He, Eli, and George had come by to take Jon out to lunch, one of several outings that his friends kept regularly arranging, to get the healing man out of the house and give him something of a life. Shawn and Cory were with Cory’s older brother Eric, hopefully not getting into trouble somewhere. 

“Shawn doesn’t even seem that bothered by it anymore,” Jon said pensively. “Maybe he’s just given up.”

“He was the one to walk away this time,” Alan noted. “He’s got the power now.”

“And you gave him that,” Eli added. “You gave him that safety net.”

“I wanted to give him what I didn’t have,” Jon explained. “A chance.” 

“You’ve given him that and more,” George chimed in. “I do believe you may have turned that young man’s life around.”


	13. Chapter 13

It took Jon longer than he would have liked to get to the door. Though he was glad he’d been able to graduate to the crutches this week, they were more cumbersome and took longer to move with than the wheelchair had.

“Just a minute,” he hollered, hobbling his way out of the living room to the sound of the second knock. Upon reaching the door and peeking out, he didn’t feel so bad for making his guest wait. He braced himself before reaching for the knob.

“Hey, Teach,” came a Midwestern drawl, accompanied by a friendly yet businesslike nod. 

“Chet,” Jon stated. The man didn’t look well. His eyes seemed like they’d taken on a permanent red glaze, he must have gained ten more pounds to an already swollen belly, and he certainly was not as rambunctious as Jon had remembered. He recalled Shawn talking about his father’s increased drinking. Jon hoped he was relatively sober right now. He extended a hand in a peace offering, apprehensive of what the man might want. Chet took the hand and shook it firmly, giving Jon a smile. 

“Can I, uh…” Chet began, motioning towards the door with his eyes. 

“Of course, of course,” Jon said, moving back to allow the other man entry. He didn’t see any other people out there with him, so he didn’t think this was an ambush, and Chet hadn’t come with police officers, though Jon noted to himself that his lawyer’s number was by the phone should he need it. 

“Would you like some water? Iced tea?” Jon offered, trying to be hospitable to this surprise on his doorstep. 

“Iced tea would be great. Want some help with that?” Chet asked as he watched Jon carefully moving around the kitchen, reminding the younger man that he was not wholly a bad person. Jon handed Chet a glass of tea and led the way into the living room and onto the couch, continuing the pregnant silence. 

“I suppose Shawn’s not here right now?” Mr. Hunter queried, attempting to break the awkwardness between them. He sat with his knees spread wide, elbows resting on his thighs, perched on the edge of a couch cushion. 

“He’s at Cory’s,” Jon answered, which he was supremely thankful for. Whatever Chet wanted, Jonathan was pretty sure Shawn was fine with not being here for it.

“So you got pretty banged up, huh?” was the man’s next observation. Jon nodded, and listed off a few of the more serious injuries, wondering why Chet was dancing around the issue. 

“I don’t know what I’d have done if it wasn’t for Shawn,” Jon said, hoping this would center the conversation on the real subject. 

“Well, I’m, I’m glad he could be there for you,” the answer came. “He’s probably a lot happier in these digs than he is at home.” Chet cast an almost suspicious glance around at the bright room, with the sun shining in the bay window. Jon wasn’t sure how to answer this.

“He seems pretty content,” he said carefully. In truth, he’d never seen Shawn consistently happier than he had been for the past two months. He could tell the kid still had ghosts that nagged at him, but he appeared to be keeping them at bay for the most part. 

“He did well on his final exams,” Jon added, knowing that he should be sharing everything he could with the boy’s father. Why was it so hard? 

“So, what, are you taking my boy for good?” was the next sentence out of Chet’s mouth, now down turned. Ah, here was the heart of the matter, Jon thought. 

“Everything has been up to Shawn this whole time. He wants to be here.”

“Look, I know you’re better for him, but he’s still mine.” There was an edge of desperation in Chet’s voice. 

“I know,” Jon said, almost surprised at the stab of sympathy he was experiencing. “I’ve never tried to replace you. I haven’t tried to be his dad, except when I’ve had to lay down the law a few times. I just try to be his friend.”

“Yeah maybe that’s why he likes you better than me.” Jon couldn't take it anymore; the months of frustration that this man had caused was about to bubble to the surface, and there was no stopping it. 

“He needs a dad, though, not just a friend. Maybe he would have liked you if you’d been that. If you’d been what he needed.” 

“How was I supposed to know what that is?” Chet’s voice was just a touch higher.

“You could have started by being around! By not taking off and leaving him for months. You can’t be upset that he’s walked away now. That’s exactly what you did to him!” 

“You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t ya? In your white collar, regular paycheck, fridge-always-full little world. You have no idea what it’s like.” Jon was going to retort, something about being a slave to drinking too much and not being willing to work for the good of your child, but Chet continued before he could.

“The Hunters have never been a steady sort. We stick together when our backs are against the wall, but we’re not the most groomed or for that matter, respectable family this town’s ever seen. My pappy, he never worked a day in his life. I’ve been trying to do what I can with what I got. I never knew my mom, and I’m afraid, well, I’m afraid I’ve done the same thing to Shawn.”

“Well, at least Shawn knows her, even if she keeps abandoning him too,” Jon said, no longer caring too much if his words bit. 

“See, there’s the thing,” Chet said slowly, “And you can’t tell Shawn, not yet.” Jon and Chet stared at each other for a moment.

“Virna’s not really his mom. Oh, she’s loved him well enough for most of his life so far, but I can’t really blame her for wanting her own life at this point.”

“Wait. Then who is his mom? Where is she?” 

“I have no idea where she is,” came the answer. “She was a stripper in Ohio. We loved each other more than anything for about a year, then she just up and left one day. I woke up to the baby hollering fit to beat the band and I never saw her again. I’m not sure I ever knew her real name, so there wasn’t much I could do. Brought the kid back here, back home to what family I had. My grammy and pappy helped me with him for awhile, but they were both old and sick. Then I met Virna. Don’t know if I would have gotten her if it weren’t for Shawn. She was a right proper mother to him, having lost her own two kids to her abusive ex, but like I said, I imagine she’s sick of it now.” 

Jonathan sat in silence with this information for a moment. Poor Shawn. 

“You’re going to tell him sometime, right?” he asked Chet, unable to think of what else to say. 

“Yeah,” Chet wavered. “Yeah, I suppose I should someday.” 

So many things that he could say raced through Jonathan’s mind. He could yell at Chet some more, degrade him for not being around and make the man feel even worse than it seemed he already did. He could respond in complete sympathy, and try to understand what he only dimly could, never having been in the man’s shoes. He could, legally, kick him out and ask that they only communicate through lawyers. 

“Shawn still loves you,” Jon told Chet. I think so anyway, he didn’t add.

“I hope so,” Chet admitted, and a painful look grew on his lined face. “It’s hard. I’ve done the best I could for the past fifteen years but it’s hard. You have no idea.”

After a moment, “You’re right. I don’t,” Jon freely declared. It had been difficult enough for the months that Shawn had been in his care; he still couldn't imagine raising a kid from the ground up. Though he could never agree with the way Chet had gone about things, perhaps he had been a little too hard on the man. 

“You’re still his father,” Jon said now. “He just...needed a place to stay. I’ve only been trying to do the right thing by him.” Chet looked over from where his gaze had been fixed on a spot on the wall between the television and a window. His eyes almost looked watery. 

“Me too,” he said roughly. “That’s why I didn’t say anything when he said he was coming back here. I wanted to try to make him stay. He is mine, ya know. But I know this is better for him. And I hate admitting that.” 

“I never tried to steal him.” Jon kept his thought that perhaps he would have liked to hidden. “I moved here when it looked like it might still be awhile before you came back, and I had the room set up for him, and, well, I didn’t really have anything else to do with it, so I just kept it his if he should want it.” There was a long pause between the two men as they studied each other. 

“Can I see it?” Chet asked. Jon hesitated, almost feeling like it would violate Shawn’s privacy if he allowed his father entry to his room. But he was the boy’s father, and it’s not like Jon would let him go through anything. Especially as it seemed as if Shawn was keeping a journal lately. 

Jonathan began the task of raising himself off the couch and reaching for his crutches, and Chet aided him with a hand where he could. Even the simplest things made Jon miss Shawn when he wasn’t home; the boy would often help him lift himself from seated and lying positions, and he would realize how much he had come to rely on the young man every so often when he wasn’t around. Not that he would ever, ever deny him the freedom to have his own life and what childhood he had left. 

“I don’t know what shape it’s in,” Jon warned Chet as they made their way down the hallway. “He does so much around the rest of the place, I don’t keep on him to keep his room picked up.” He opened the door, expecting a mess like a typical teenager’s room would be, but there were only a few pieces of clothing strewn around and one plate from the sandwich Shawn had had for lunch before receiving the call from Cory to come over sitting on his bedside table. There was a tattered notebook that Jon recognized as one that Shawn spent a lot of time with and a pen on the unmade bed. The window had been left open and a slight breeze fluttered the green curtains. 

Jon looked over at Chet and watched the man take in the space where his son lived and slept. He saw his eyes wander over the TV and game system, the growing collection of books on the bookcase, and the CD player that had been a birthday gift from Cory. He hoped he wouldn’t think he’d been trying to buy the boy’s love or loyalty. 

“Dad,” came a flat voice from behind them, making both men jump. Shawn had sneaked into the apartment, silent as a cat. Chet turned as quickly as his bulk would allow, and Jon pivoted on his good foot from where he leaned against the doorway to Shawn’s room.

“Sonny,” he greeted him, “You’ve grown even more.” 

“If you came around more than once every few months you’d have known that,” came the snarky answer. Jon bit his tongue, it was not up to him to demand the boy respect his father. 

“I know, I know,” was Chet’s subdued answer. Jon carefully studied Shawn. Where at the last interaction he’d seen between the young man and his father, Shawn had been withdrawn and tried to keep the peace and be agreeable, now he stood as tall as his new five feet and six inches made him and looked directly into his sire’s eyes. Jon saw the pain and confusion but also the resolution rest on his face, and while he was proud of the teen for maturing so much in the time he’d known him well, he also wished he hadn’t had to.

“What are you doing here?” Shawn asked, seemingly determined to be nothing but direct. Chet tried a smile.

“Well, I wanted to see where my boy lived. Is that okay?” His attempt at lightheartedness died on his lips. “I also wanted to talk to Jonathan here. And see you,” he added quietly. 

“That’s news to me,” Shawn quipped. 

“Why don’t I leave you guys to talk?” Jon suggested, starting to back towards his room at the end of the hall. “I’ll be in here if you need me.” He looked into Shawn’s eyes as he said this last, making sure the young man knew he’d be available. Jon shut the door after him, but found he could hear every word both Hunters said as they continued their conversation in the hallway, whether he wanted to or not.


	14. Chapter 14

“So how are things?” Chet asked his son. 

“Great,” came the terse answer. Jon had no problem holding the image of Shawn’s face with its newfound flat expression in his mind’s eye, and likewise Chet’s reddened countenance. 

“Heard you did good on your finals.” 

“Yep. Not like you care.” Jon was curious how long Shawn was going to make his father suffer this way.

“Of course I care, Shawn. I’m just...I’m just bad at showing it. Maybe, maybe you could come home with me and...” Chet trailed off. 

“You know,” Shawn started, and something in his voice sounded like a dam giving way. “I wanted to go home for a long time. I figured this would just be a few week thing at first, so I was okay with hanging out with Jon. And then you couldn't even call regularly. I didn’t deserve that. He made me feel wanted when you treated me like an option. He made me feel like I had a place here, and at the trailer, I’m just kind of an afterthought.”

“No, you’re not, Shawnie, I swear. Look, I know I screwed up. I know I can’t give you what he can, but maybe I can try if you’d let me.”

“Maybe if you’d gotten a steady job and kept it! Maybe if you’d stayed in the state, or quit drinking! You can’t even give me a real bed! Jon gave me that and he’s just my English teacher!”

“Look, I’m sorry I don’t have the money for all this stuff...”

“It’s not just the stuff! Yeah, it’s nice, but what’s even better is knowing he’s there for me.” At this, Jon melted a little. He had accomplished his goal of making Shawn feel secure. He hadn’t exactly meant it to be at his father’s emotional expense, though. 

“You’re right. I never should have left the first time. I should have stayed here with you. Then all this never would have happened.”

“I’m glad you did.” 

“What?”

“I’m glad you left to chase after Mom. I’m glad you abandoned me.”

“Wha - why?” 

“Because I’d still be sitting there in that crummy little trailer with you, watching you drink and wishing that you cared about me more than the beer. Waiting for the next time that you’d disappear and I’d have to pretend that it didn’t bother me. Not caring about school, not caring about if I got in trouble, not caring about my life.” 

“It wasn’t that bad...” 

“Yes it was! Don’t tell me what it was or wasn’t! All I know is it’s done. I won’t live like that again.”

“Now, Shawnie...” 

“Don’t ‘Shawnie’ me.” A short silence.

“I could demand you get in the truck and come back with me.” Chet’s voice was suddenly less pleading and more stern. Jon readied himself in case he felt he absolutely had to step in. 

“You could, but I’d laugh in your face.” 

“I’m still your father!”

“No, you’re not. A father wouldn’t have done what you did.” Jon had never heard Shawn sound so cold. When Chet responded, he was the closest to yelling as Jon had ever heard him, and he supposed that was understandable. 

“You made it sound like I beat the shit out of you! I just needed a break okay?” 

“Well, what are you complaining about then? You have it. You can have all the break you want. Jon’s fine with having me here. We’re helping each other out, and this is a pretty good life. I’m happy here. Actually happy.” There was another long pause. 

“You really don’t want to have anything to do with me?” Jon winced at the open hurt in Chet’s tone. Shawn took a bit to answer.

“I didn’t say that. I just know I don’t want to go back to my old life. I’m not going back with you.”

“I miss you, boy,” and the truth of Chet’s words speared Jon’s heart. He’d missed Shawn after only living with him a few months, and they weren’t blood. Yet another, longer pause followed this. 

“I miss you too. Sometimes.” 

“You know, legally I could make you come with me,” but his tone was softer now. 

“And you think I wouldn’t run away?” Shawn didn’t sound cocky this time, just quietly matter of fact. 

“You’re determined on this ain’t ya? Have you talked to Jon about this? You think he’s okay with you being here forever?” Damn straight I am, Jon thought, though he realized he’d never expressly told the boy that. He’d have to. 

“Even if he’s not, I’ll be sixteen in a year. I can quit school and start working and I’ll figure things out.” Like hell you will, Jon silently declared behind his door. 

“Can we at least hang out sometimes? You know, do some father/son stuff?” Chet sounded defeated now, and while Jon felt bad for him, something he hadn’t been able to imagine not so long ago, he was glad he was still trying. Shawn really should have his father present in his life somewhat. 

“Maybe. If you actually come around, we’ll see.”

“I will. I’ll be around more. I promise,” and he sounded sincere. Jonathan dearly hoped he was not merely spouting words. 

  
  
  


“Ugh,” Jon groaned as he fell off the ledge for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it,” Shawn laughed. “Here, the trick is to sort of still hover your left thumb over the joystick while you jump with your right thumb. That keeps you from losing your balance too soon.” Jon watched as Shawn expertly made his Mario leap like a rocket from shelf to shelf while Jon’s Luigi hugged the brick wall for dear life. Now that Jon had full use of his left hand again, Shawn was teaching him how to play video games, a fun time waster and a great dexterity exercise for his hand. 

The two sat side by side on Shawn’s bedroom floor, backs up against the end of the bed. Jon didn’t know how he would get up from this position, but he could feel himself gaining strength in his formerly useless right leg every day. The adult in him knew he should be encouraging Shawn to get outside on this beautifully sunny July day, but the kid in him had to admit these games were fun. Besides, he had plans to drag Shawn out of the house the next day for a classic car show George had let him know about, and he was determined to take him camping at least once before the summer was over. 

He tried not to crowd the kid, since he was still mostly housebound but Shawn didn’t seem to mind. Jon reflected, not for the first time, that the teen was more mobile than he was. He could get on his bicycle and ride over to Cory’s whenever he wanted, which was about every other day. Jonathan may have made sure that the boy’s best friend’s house was still within biking distance when he’d chosen this apartment. As was the trailer park where his father now lived alone. Shawn had gone to see him once, and Chet had come over again since that tense day, surprising Jon with a hundred dollars that he slipped into his hand so that Shawn wouldn’t see. 

“Told you I would, and I’m trying to become a man of my word,” he said. Jon promptly opened a discreet savings account that would go towards Shawn’s potential college education. He didn’t expect to ever see a lot of money from the elder Hunter, but he figured every little bit counted. What was more important was that it seemed like Chet was attempting to be in Shawn’s life a bit more, and that the boy was letting him. Jon hadn’t heard Shawn say anything about his mother, either Virna or to give any indication he’d learned about his real one yet. He had promised himself and Chet that the boy’s father had to be the one to tell him that, he just hoped he’d be there to catch Shawn if he needed it when he did find out. 

He noticed Shawn reading for fun more than he let on, and made sure he let it be known that his own books were up for loan whenever, when before he’d never let anyone else touch his beloved collection. He knew almost every word of every Counting Crows song by now, whether he wanted to or not, but Shawn was also picking up some Led Zeppelin and Tom Petty from him. Jon couldn't remember what his refrigerator looked like without Barq’s root beer in it, or what his bathroom smelled like before that cheap body spray Shawn insisted on putting on before a date. Did teenage girls really like that stuff? He supposed so, judging by the occasional hickey Shawn only half heartedly tried to hide. The boy still went on more dates than Jon, but that was mostly because Christina had kept coming around even after Jon had strictly needed her to and was no longer paying her. They weren’t sure where it was going, but they enjoyed each other’s company, and since Shawn had been part of Jon’s life from his time in the hospital, she had made friends with the teen long ago. 

Jonathan had almost forgotten what his old apartment looked like, and he was occasionally surprised to find, upon reflection, that he didn’t miss his old life. The only thing he missed was his bike, and he had vowed as soon as he was working again in the fall when school started up he would begin the repairs. That would still mean it would be the following spring before he could get on it again, which irked him but he tried not to think about it. In the meantime, the Matthews were lending him their second car, which was ridiculously generous of them. His life looked almost nothing like it had not even a year ago, when he had extended the offer of a place to stay to one lost and frustrated teenage boy. 

Jon knocked his shoulder into Shawn’s companionably as the game started over again, hoping he could get far enough this time to at least have a chance to jump on a Goomba. The young man bumped him back in turn and took his hand off the controller for a split second to run his hand through his hair, his movements relaxed and easy.

George Feeny’s words echoed in Jonathan’s mind: “You’re doing the right thing,” and he heard Shawn’s precious laughter as Luigi pounced onto and flattened a brown mushroom creature before it disappeared. The teen’s eyes sparkled.    


“See, you got this! I knew you’d catch on!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading! I have been touched by some of the comments that I received while posting this little story.   
> There's just always been a part of that has needed to give Shawn and Jonathan more than they got in the show, and now that I fancy myself a writer (which in part is due to Shawn Hunter and his evolution on the show as well as Rider Strong's influence), I had that chance. I did my best to do them justice <3


End file.
